The Quiet One
by Terminally Introverted
Summary: Heracles is introverted, thoughtful, and most of all, quiet. But everything around him is loud, including his boyfriend of two years, Sadiq, who he no longer loves. Then, he meets Kiku- a transfer student who lacks the ability to speak, and Heracles realizes just how much he's missed the quiet.
1. Chapter 1

Heracles was used to things being loud. He was constantly surrounded by loud friends, loud cats mewing in need of attention, and loud voices raised over each other in loud arguments between loud people. Over time, he had grown used to it. That did not mean that he liked it, or even that he could tolerate it. His life was an unending symphony of noises he wished he could mute; all moving at a pace he simply could not keep up with. Eventually, he grew convinced he was the only quiet person he knew.

But one day, when Heracles was walking through a loud hallway full of loud people moving at the speed of light, he looked to the side and saw a singular quiet, still thing. It was as if time had stopped in the place he stood.

The first thing he noticed was the look of perpetual fear he carried like a neon sign, even if he was just as obviously trying to hide it. He was pressed against the wall as if he wanted to blend into it, his eyes dark and his face pinched. He was a wallflower, likely an outcast that few people noticed- yet Heracles could not walk past him. Though he wasn't sure why, he pushed his way through the loud, rushing crowd of people and made his way to the quiet one. His spot against the wall was like the eye of a storm; his silence like a magnet.

"Hello." Heracles lifted a hand in a slow, tired excuse for a wave. "Are you lost?" He assumed the boy was a freshman, maybe a transfer student. He knew only one thing for sure- that he was quiet.

The boy looked up, but the moment their eyes met his gaze shot back to the floor. He did not say a word, but it was not that he looked as if he did not understand. Rather, he looked an odd cross between terrified and ashamed. His dark hair fell into his eyes, shrouding the flush on his face and the look of apprehension in his eyes.

Heracles tilted his head, unsure whether to be intrigued, confused or simply concerned. "Are you alright?"

The boy looked up again, his mouth drawn into a thin line. His lips parted for a brief moment, but he quickly closed them and shook his head rather violently. Heracles watched in silent bewilderment as he reached into his pocket, withdrew a pen and rumbled scrap of paper, and scribbled something down. The moment he finished, he shoved the note into Heracles's hand and took a small step backwards.

Heracles unfolded the paper and read the jumbled yet neat words: _I am lost. _For a long moment, he only stared at the letters as though he didn't know what they meant. What an odd situation. Well, at least they had a starting point. "What classroom are you looking for?"

They held eye contact for only seconds before the boy broke it again. Then he pointed upward, waited a beat, brought his index finger and his thumb together to form a circle, and finally held up four fingers. While it was downright strange, it did not take Heracles long to get the message. "One hundred and four?" Another pause. Heracles only blinked. After what felt like an ice age in this boy's silence, he nodded. Heracles was already unable to walk away, and he quickly found that he was not able to look away, either. "Let me walk you there."

The boy did nothing, of course said nothing. But when Heracles walked forward, he followed with careful, reserved steps. Heracles could not stop his mind from spinning. He was not used to quiet, and even less used to silence. He was not even sure if it was refreshing or deafening. He could not find a clue on the boy's face, either. There was nothing about this that was not odd, but when they reached the classroom, Heracles realized for the third time that he could not walk away.

"Hey." Without thinking about it, Heracles reached forward and touched his shoulder. He was not entirely sure what he was expecting, but he was certain the reaction he got was not it. The boy flinched as if he had been punched, inhaled sharply and jumped backwards. It was the most sound he had made yet, and Heracles could only feel guilt. "Sorry, I-" He broke off and dropped his raised hands. When the flash of shock faded, he glanced down to see the boy was still staring at him, silent and unreadable as ever. Heracles figured there was no way he could possibly make this more uncomfortable, so he said, "You are very quiet. Will you at least tell me your name?"

There was that pained hesitance again. Heracles knew he was likely pushing too much, sticking around too long for no good reason, but he couldn't walk away. So he stood in the unfamiliar silence, waiting for something, anything. A spark went off in his chest when the boy reached into his pocket again, a fire shooting across his hand when he felt another scrap of paper being forced into it. For some strange reason, he felt almost accomplished.

By the time he looked up, the boy was gone and the hallway was loud again. Heracles ignored the intrusive noise and carefully unfolded the note. This time, the letters trembled.

_My name is Kiku. I apologize for being quiet. I'm mute. _

_._

Things did not get any quieter. All day Heracles was bombarded by conversations he did not wish to have, information he found irrelevant and expectations he could not meet. All day he at least tried to ignore them. In the end, he failed. By the time his final period rolled around, the only one he had free, Heracles was devoid of energy. This was no different than any other day. In some aggravating, exhausting way, he was used to this kind of fatigue.

At least today was not quite as monotonous. The familiarity was broken up by the scraps of paper that seemed to scream from his pocket above all other noise, the words echoing in his head in made up voices. He played those same five minutes over and over in his head, wondering what he could have done differently, wondering why he cared at all. How fixated he was on a strange couple of minutes with a strange boy was probably ridiculous, yet he could not eradicate the incident from his mind. In a way, it was a welcome distraction. Kiku's silence was impressively loud in his head, especially in such a loud, senseless place. But of course, another loud, senseless voice had to shatter it all.

"Who was that kid you were with this morning, Jerkules?"

Heracles sucked in his cheeks. This kind of greeting was what passed for affection at this stage, apparently. It did not matter that it was already midafternoon- it was still too early for this. "Hello, Sadiq." He looked to the side to see messy hair, piercing eyes and an obnoxious grin sneering down at him. If anything was louder than Sadiq's voice, it was his presence. Both were tiring, and honesty, Heracles sometimes wondered what he ever found so attractive about them. He looked away, resigned to simply ignoring all of it. Words were too much. He had nothing to say.

Sadiq always had something to say. "Who was he? I've never seen the kid before, but he seemed weird." He slapped Heracles on the back with an open palm for no apparent reason and sat down with a dramatic sigh. Heracles winced. "Makes sense that you would know him then, right?" He laughed as if that had actually been funny. It was an unwelcome, booming sound.

Heracles lowered his eyes to the table. He was fairly certain getting angry with that would be unreasonable, but that did nothing to stop the emotion from being felt. Maybe Kiku was a bit odd, but really, all of them were. "I do not know him. He was lost." And who would not help someone who was lost? Fear spoke far louder than words. "I showed him to his class."

"Always have to be the Good Samaritan, don't you, Heracles?" Sadiq scoffed before turning his attention to carving something in the table with his nail. The scraping was insufferable.

It was the type of question that did not require an answer. Heracles stayed silent, slid his hand into his pocket and wove the slips of paper between his fingers for what was probably the fifth time. He was usually grateful to have this last period free, because it gave him time to think. It really was a shame that it had to be intruded upon, effectively shattering every cohesive thought in his mind. But it was a petty complaint, he supposed. So for the remainder of the hour, he listened to Sadiq ramble on about something, always something. Maybe he spoke about girls, or boys, or classes, or maybe he said something that could very well be life changing. Heracles did not even know. Silence still filled his head.

The harsh ring of the final bell served as a relief. Heracles stood before the sound even stopped, entirely too eager to get away from both the building and Sadiq, but he was stopped by a sharp tug on his sleeve. He turned around, reluctant though he wished he wasn't. As expected, when Sadiq kissed him it was too forceful and sloppy and meaningless. After two years of him, Heracles no longer felt anything. He could not even pinpoint when that had happened. After a rushed goodbye, he left. He tried to ignore how much better he felt when he did.

The walk home was usually empty, silent. Today only the latter was true, because the moment he stepped outside, Heracles saw him again. Kiku was walking out the same door, mere feet away, though Heracles had never seen him go this way before. Come to think of it, Heracles had not seen him once, period, despite it being the middle of the school year in a small town. It was as if this kid had fallen from the sky.

Yes, he had come from nowhere, and that was only the first interesting thing about him. Heracles could have simply kept going, but he didn't. "Hello," he said, just loud enough to be heard. Kiku stopped walking, and for a moment confusion overrode the perpetual nervousness. Heracles quickly realized he had not thought this far ahead. At a loss for words like always, he said the very first thing that came to mind. "You did not have to apologize."

Maybe that sounded a bit strange out of context. That was always Heracles's problem- writing out an entire speech in his head, only to vocalize some nonsensical, fragmented part of it. As a result, unsaid questions were apparent in Kiku's expression. Heracles wondered how frustrating it must be to not be able to vocalize them. In an attempt to make that unnecessary, he took a step closer and tried to explain himself. "Your note."

Kiku looked up at Heracles and blinked. Perhaps it was not the statement that was confusing him, but the fact that Heracles was talking to him at all. After all, they had met only briefly. Though he felt a bit silly, he felt a need to press on. He felt even sillier when he realized he had left out a rather important detail. "Oh, my name is Heracles. You are Kiku, right?" He hoped he was pronouncing it right. He had nothing to go off of, after all. "Are you new?"

This time, Kiku did not nod, but shrugged. Heracles was not entirely sure what to make of that. He was either new or not new, what other option was there? What was the grey area? Heracles realized his thoughts were running away again and quickly reeled them in. It would be easier to just assume Kiku was new. It was not worth it to ask more questions he could not answer, to force him to write something down. Right before he fell victim to his own racing mind yet again, Heracles became entirely too aware of the silence. Carrying an entire conversation, especially when the other person could not physically answer him, was hardly something he was used to. "Where do you live?" he asked finally, though he regretted it almost immediately. That sounded a bit intrusive.

Thankfully, Kiku seemed unfazed. He lifted a hand and pointed down a street that was, disappointingly, the exact opposite direction that Heracles needed to go. He supposed he had nothing else to do even less to lose, so he said, "Can I walk with you?"

Sometimes, words were not necessary. The look in Kiku's eyes was enough, and it held one perfectly clear message: _why? _This time, it was Heracles who shrugged. There was a message in that, as well: _why not? _Kiku held eye contact longer than he ever had, arched an eyebrow, and finally shrugged right back. Heracles took that as a yes. He also took it as a small, nonsensical victory.

About halfway down the road, Heracles realized that an uncomfortable silence between two very quiet people was still uncomfortable. When he walked with Sadiq, something he generally tried to avoid, Heracles had no need to fill the silence because it was already taken care of. This time, it was not. He said the first thing that came to mind, which was quickly becoming a habit. "Where are you from?"

Kiku just looked at him, eyebrows drawn together. Heracles felt the tips of his ears burn when he realized his mistake- failing to stick to yes or no questions. Well, that was rather limiting. He began to wonder if anyone knew anything about this mysterious, strange, if not slightly cute boy. After all, Kiku could only carry around so much paper… Heracles quickly realized he was carrying a bag full of almost nothing but paper. Mid-stride, he swung said bag from his shoulder to his chest, unzipped it, and took great care not to spill everything everywhere while Kiku watched. One series of awkward, fumbling movements later, he was holding a pen and his English notebook. It had a kitten on it. Hopefully Kiku would not mind.

_We can communicate this way, _Heracles wrote on the first free page. He handed it to Kiku without really looking at him, hoping to seem nonchalant.

Kiku took the notebook from him, seemingly puzzled but no longer nervous. Heracles forced himself to look ahead. Though he still felt uncomfortable, and in all honestly, a bit lost, he was enjoying the opportunity to have some quiet time. Between Sadiq filling his thoughts in the worst way possible, voices of varying intensity attacking him every second of everyday, and the threat of college hanging over his head like it had been all year, silence was greatly appreciated. Loudness was suffocating, and the quiet was the air. That air was stolen when he felt the notebook being pressed into his hand.

_Okay. _Kiku wrote in neat, condensed handwriting. On the next line, it said:_ To answer your question, I am from Japan. _

Heracles raised an eyebrow. He knew no other immigrants beside himself, his childhood friend from Cyprus, and Sadiq, who was from Turkey. Maybe he and Kiku had more in common than he thought. _Really? That is interesting. I am from Greece, _he wrote.

Kiku took the notebook with less reluctance. His eyes flashed interestingly at the words on the page, and Heracles could not help but watch as he penned a quick, inhumanly neat response before passing it back. _Greece is a lovely country. Do you like philosophy? _

_Yes, _Heracles wrote quickly, a small smile playing on his lips. He could not help his enthusiasm. Whenever he tried to start a conversation about his favorite philosophers, the person he was talking to usually either had no idea what he was talking about or simply seemed uninterested, if not flat-out annoyed. This was especially true with Sadiq. His hand moved across the paper with ease. _I especially like Aristotle. _He could not even remember the amount of times he had read _On The Soul _or _Poetics. _

As Kiku read his response, Heracles could have sworn he saw him smile. No matter how faint, brief or insignificant it was, it felt like yet another victory. Kiku certainly did not seem happy that morning. This was a welcome change. He seemed to breathe easier, his handwriting looking less controlled. _Aristotle was a great man. _On the line under it, it said only word. _Mythology? _

Heracles decided he liked Kiku. In the span of five minutes, he had shown interest in two things Heracles held rather close to his heart. Perhaps it was silly and perhaps it reduced him to a stereotype, but he could not help it. Both subjects reminded him of his mother, after all. _Of course. _A loud gust of wind lifted the page as he wrote. Heracles held it down as he continued unthinkingly. _My mother used to read me the stories. _He regretted the entire sentence the moment he finished the last letter. It sounded much too personal for what this was. But he was writing in pen and it felt strange to cross it out, so he left it. He felt an embarrassed flush creep across his neck as he handed it back to Kiku. Maybe this was not that much less difficult than speaking.

His doubt was erased when Kiku responded easily. _That sounds nice._ _My brother was always the one to read to me. _It did not take long for the implication to set in. Though Heracles felt his stomach sink, he could not help but look at the bright side- at least they had something else in common. He tapped the pen against the page, searching for a response he would not regret, but quickly realized he would not have the time. Kiku had stopped walking. They had reached his house.

This time, Heracles's stomach plummeted directly to his feet. He shook off the feeling and scribbled one last message. _It was nice talking to you. _He held the book out in front of him as if to present it, tilted his head and smiled slightly.

Kiku seemed to study his expression. Instead of walking away, he reached out slowly, carefully, and took the notebook again. Heracles watched him write in silent anticipation, curiosity rising in him. This time, it was Kiku who simply showed him the page.

_You do realize you can respond to me verbally, right? _

Heracles suddenly remembered how to speak. "Oh." Writing back had only felt natural, he did not want Kiku to feel strange, but he had probably made him feel strange anyway and oh god he needed to say something. He looked away, embarrassed. "Oh. I just thought…" He trailed off. Being physically able to speak did not make this any easier. Then he just felt exhausted again, just like always, because he had made things uncomfortable, just like always. Unsure what else to do, he took the notebook back and turned on his heel. "Sorry."

He stopped when he felt a small tug on his book bag. He turned around, still fighting back embarrassment only to have to vanish when he saw Kiku was waving. Of course… he was saying goodbye. "Oh," Heracles said again. "Goodbye." Kiku's eyes were emotionless, unreadable, and… a rather deep shade of brown. Heracles held eye contact for a moment longer before starting off towards his own house.

Halfway down the sidewalk, Heracles heard his phone go off and winced at the obnoxious tone. When he managed to find the stupid thing, he noticed he had a message.

_Sadiq: Hey Jerkules, what's up with you today? _

Heracles did not bother with a response. Instead he turned the phone on silent, opened the notebook's cover and reread everything on the page. By the time he got home, he nearly had it memorized.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: "Stelios" is Cyprus. I could not find a human name for him anywhere, so I just gave him one. Thanks!_

* * *

"Would it kill you to pick up your fucking phone once in awhile?"

Heracles could not even count the amount of times they'd had this same conversation. Every instance of it blurred together in his mind in a muck of grey, of raised voices and discomfort. It was not even so much a conversation as it was a shouting match, a struggle for power, another run through the mill. He could not even say it upset him anymore. Heracles was just tired. Always tired. "I was busy." He did not raise his voice, for he did not have the energy. He wondered why he agreed to come over today.

Sadiq threw his hands in front of him, his face contorting in a disgusted scowl. "Too busy to answer a damn text?"

If anything was more familiar than the argument, it was the annoyance. Heracles fought the urge to roll his eyes. This just seemed so unbelievably petty. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal, Herc," Sadiq took a heavy step forward, his voice bordering on a shout, "is that you do this all the damn time! You never talk to me!"

Heracles could not logically deny that, though he wished he could. He lifted his eyes, forced himself to meet Sadiq's firm, fiery gaze, and wondered how it had gotten to be this way. Maybe it had never been any different. He and Sadiq had never been a perfect couple, and he was almost completely certain they had never been 'cute.' Still, there must have been a time when this felt more fulfilling. Surely he would not have started this if there hadn't been, surely…

He was broken out of his thoughts when he felt Sadiq clutching his wrists, his grip firm and his voice too loud. "Heracles!" He grit his teeth, tightened his hold. "Are you ignoring me or are you just stupid?"

Of course, he had forgotten to respond again. But what was there to say? There was never anything to say, because no words existed that could make this any better. Not in Greek, not in Turkish, not in English…probably not in Japanese, either. "Sorry," said Heracles finally. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Of course you don't." Sadiq dropped his wrists and twisted away. "You don't care at all, do you?"

Finally, it became too much. "How can you say that?" Heracles was tired of being accused, made to feel guilty, degraded… he was just tired in general, actually. "You always yell at me, Sadiq. You treat me terribly."

"I treat you…" Sadiq broke off with a scoff. "Yeah, okay."

Heracles was unsure what was worse- being accused, or being dismissed. Both hit like slaps to the face, both made him want to walk out the door and never turn back. But something always prevented him from doing just that. Something was keeping him rooted to this very spot, keeping him in an endless loop, always running in circles. He was still trying to find what that thing was. Maybe he did not want to know. "You never take me seriously." Heracles nearly whispered it, his throat feeling closed.

"Oh, shut up." Sadiq laughed then, the sound ringing out in the silence. Heracles let out a long, controlled breath. He detested that laugh. "You're extra grumpy today, Jerkules."

"Why do you call me that…" Heracles's voice faded out, barely audible to begin with. He had never understood how quickly Sadiq could go from furious to amused, always unpredictable, always exhausting, always loud.

"Just answer my goddamn messages, alright? Jesus." Sadiq sounded an odd cross between aggravated and entertained. Then, he did something that managed to annoy Heracles more than the petty arguments or the laughing or the nicknames- he started poking him. He always did this, why did he always do this, why did Heracles put up with it? He swatted his hand away and tried to move, but Sadiq barged into his personal space, brought his arm around his waist and pulled him back. It was too forceful; it was annoying.

Heracles felt his skin crawl and grow feverish under his rising rage as Sadiq continued to jab his finger into his ribs. "Stop it." _Stop this. Stop everything. Stop existing._

"Aw, cranky baby." Sadiq finally stopped poking at him, pulled him closer, lifted his chin. Once forced to meet his eyes, it did not take Heracles long to notice the fire. Sadiq was still angry, and Heracles knew exactly how he wanted to express it. His prediction was proven correct when Sadiq ghosted over his lips, doing so as arrogantly as humanly possible. "Be a good boy for once."

Heracles reveled in the rare silence as Sadiq moved to his neck, his teeth sharp and his hands strong enough to hurt. Yes, Sadiq was still angry, and he wanted to tear Heracles apart. What was worse was Heracles almost wanted to let him. He wanted to believe he would never consider it, that he would never succumb to something so intimate after being spoken to like it all meant nothing, but he knew he would be lying to himself. He had given in in the past, far more than he cared to admit, and in all honestly, he almost wanted to give in right now. It would certainly be easier. No matter how unbearable Sadiq was, he was tempting. He was persuasive. Heracles let his eyes close, tried to clear his mind…but something was not allowing him to forget his dignity today.

Before he could change his mind, Heracles pulled Sadiq away by the back of the shirt. "Get off," he said, summoning a resolved tone he didn't know he was capable of. "I'm leaving."

Sadiq dropped his hands, the lust in his eyes giving way to unbelieving, callous anger. "Fine, go ahead." He shoved Heracles away with a hard push to the shoulders, as if to deny he had ever wanted him close. As he turned away, he mumbled, "Fucking tease," under his breath. It was quiet enough to be resentful, loud enough to hurt.

He couldn't even look at him anymore. With disgust pooling in his blood, Heracles left the room, left the house, left Sadiq, and slammed the door behind him. He yanked at the collar of his shirt as he stormed off in a sad attempt to cover the mark probably left on him. He felt branded, like a cow. At the same time, he felt something closer to…pride. He had managed to work his way out of Sadiq's quicksand today. That was nothing if not an improvement.

Heracles walked without a purpose or destination. He moved too quickly, too fervently for what he was used to, wondering why he felt a need to keep this pace while simultaneously being unable to stop. He needed silence. That was all he was certain of, because the majority of his life felt like a grey area lately. Everything was grey, including the sidewalk below and the sky above. It would probably rain soon. How fitting.

He did not look up for blocks, and when he did, he realized he had reached a park. For the first time all day, Heracles managed to smile. Parks were silent. His eyes grazed over the open field, the patches of trees, the solitary bench…the boy on the bench. Heracles just stared for entirely too long. He wanted to know how this kept happening, where this boy had come from, and why his heart leapt to his throat when he saw him. Whatever those answers may be, he was less than upset about it. "Kiku?" He shattered the silence, met Kiku's startled gaze and stepped forward.

Of course Kiku did not answer verbally, but he still managed to respond. He tilted his head, lifted a hand and waved.

After he left Sadiq behind, Heracles wanted nothing more to be alone. Now, he had no problem asking, "Can I sit with you?" Kiku and the silence he came with was exactly what he needed. He could feel his rage diminishing, the fight fading into a memory that blended in with all the others.

Kiku patted the space next to him.

As Heracles sat down he felt two things at once, both equally overwhelming: very calm, and vaguely, strangely self-conscious. He flicked his long hair to lie across his collar, hoping the marks were not noticeable, but almost immediately forgot about them. Kiku did not seem judgmental. There was something so unassuming about him, some small, quiet thing that calmed Heracles down after emerging from a storm. For a long while he basked in it, soaked it in, just took time to breathe. Thoughts of the fight still clung to the corners of his mind. He did not realize those thoughts were evident on his face until he noticed Kiku looking at him.

"I got in a fight." Heracles hoped he picked the right unsaid question to answer. But even if Kiku had no interest in hearing it, he felt a need to tell someone. And he somehow knew Kiku would listen. "With my…" _boyfriend. _The word died on his lips. For some reason he simply could not say it. Instead he simply repeated, "I got in a fight."

Kiku's eyes flashed wildly, strangely at that. His lips parted as if to attempt a response, and Heracles held his breath as if he actually expected one. Of course he didn't actually say anything, but his actions spoke loudly enough. He was suddenly frantic, patting as his pocket and glancing at Heracles as though he expected him to spontaneously combust. Heracles watched in bewilderment. It took a moment for him to remember he could speak. "Kiku?" Kiku glanced quickly at him, his eyes wide, and Heracles wondered briefly if it was something he said. Words were always causing problems. "Are you alright?"

After what felt like an eternity of watching him suffer in this strange frenzied silence, Kiku withdrew a pen and pinched it between his fingers. It was obvious he had no paper. His eyes flicked side to side uncertainly and finally landed on Heracles's arm. As a blush spread across his cheeks, Kiku grabbed his wrist, pulled his arm across the bench, and wrote as quickly as humanly possible. Heracles barely felt the pen scratching him. When Kiku dropped his arm like an active grenade, he was actually disappointed. What was now written across his forearm made him feel even worse.

_Did someone hit you?_

Heracles narrowed his eyes, confused. It seemed like a radical assumption. "No," he said honestly. Sadiq may be rude and he may be aggressive, but calling him downright _abusive _was going about a hundred steps too far. Maybe his past statement had been too vague. Why was communication so difficult? "It was more of an argument than a fight." He stared at his arm, tracing the shaky, twisting letters with his eyes. "Why would you think someone hit me?" Heracles knew the question would not receive an answer but asked anyway. He was genuinely curious.

Kiku flushed a worrying shade of red. For a moment Heracles considered reminding him to continue breathing, but he lost the ability to speak when Kiku clutched his wrist again, still frantic but not nearly as forceful as Sadiq. Time almost seemed to slow as Heracles concentrated on the warm, gentle touch. It was not something he was used to. Time snapped back into full speed when Kiku started to rub furiously at the writing, trying and failing to get it off, his expression a panicked grimace.

Confusion took over again. "Kiku, it's alright." His voice was calm, even. There was no reason for it not to be. But Kiku continued to scrub at his arm until the skin turned red, and Heracles could not stop from wincing. "That kind of hurts."

Kiku stopped abruptly. He finally met his gaze, the look in his eyes screaming apologies louder than Heracles had ever heard anyone talk, dropped his arm, stood up and left immediately.

Heracles could not even decide what to be confused about first. "Kiku?" he called in his direction. Kiku did not turn around, did not give any indication that he heard him at all, but it was obvious that he did. Frozen, Heracles watched him scurry away until he was nothing but a spec in the distance. Then he leaned against the back of the bench and sighed, feeling rather defeated. Between Sadiq yelling at him, Kiku acting as if he was terrified of him despite having just met him yesterday, and everyone else simply assuming he was strange, Heracles was beginning to think he was just repulsive.

At least he had his cats.

.

"If you hate him so much, Heracles, why are you still together?"

And there was that sense of déjà-vu. Heracles looked at Stelios, studied his look of annoyance, and quickly looked away. He probably should have kept the morning's disaster to himself. After all, he was completely certain their mutual friend was tired of being caught in the middle of it. "I'm not sure." It was an honest answer. Most days Heracles had no idea why he willingly put up with Sadiq. His presence in his life had grown to be a simple- if not slightly unfortunate- fact.

Stelios threw his legs over the side of the chair and huffed. "Has anyone ever told you you are not very decisive?"

"_You_ have." Heracles quickly realized how repetitive his life was becoming. His argument with Sadiq was one of dozens, and this conversation with Stelios was just as tired. "I will figure it out eventually. I'll sleep on it."

"You say that pretty much everyday, Heracles. With the amount of sleep you get, I would think you'd have reached a decision by now." Stelios sighed and sunk further into his seat. "How did you two get together in the first place? I can't even remember."

Had it really been that bad for that long? Heracles was only slightly shocked when he had to take a moment to consider the question. "My freshman year, his sophomore," he said. "He was the only person I knew besides you who was not American. We bonded over it, I suppose." Heracles knew the words were a lie, but he did not want to explain the real reason. He did not even want to admit it to himself, because in some respect, a large part of him still did not understand it.

Of course, Stelios saw right through it. "The first time you told me about him, you described him as 'that obnoxious Turkish kid.' I'm fairly certain I got along with him better than you did from the start."

Heracles leaned against the arm of the sofa, fatigue beginning to set in again. He settled on dodging the topic all together. "What do you want from me, Stelios?"

"I want you to stop moping around and decide what you're doing. Either stay with Sadiq and stop complaining, or end it. What it is now is exhausting to everyone involved." Stelios softened his expression. "I just want you to be happy, alright?"

Slowly, Heracles nodded. He knew Stelios was right, but at the same time, it did not make the decision any easier. Staying with Sadiq was comfortable, in a way. It was all he had known for years now. Heracles noted he was only upsetting himself and changed the subject to the first thing he could think of. "I met a mute kid the other day." That was all he had been thinking about since he met him, actually.

Stelios arched an eyebrow. "Um, what?"

"That means he cannot talk."

"I know that!" Moments passed before Stelios spoke again, seemingly taken off guard. "Well, that's…interesting. How did you even meet him?"

"I think he just moved here. He was lost. I showed him to his class." _Then I walked home with him, forgot how to talk, made a complete fool of myself, ran into him at the park and managed to scare him…_ Heracles shook his head. He had no idea how any of that happened, now that he thought about it. He felt a sudden urge to tell his friend every petty detail, from Kiku's knowledge of philosophy to the color of his eyes to way his handwriting looked, but speaking so much felt unnecessary. All he said was, "His name is Kiku."

"Why can't he talk?"

Heracles paused. He hadn't thought about that- not until now, at least. For a moment he wondered if Kiku was able to talk and simply choosing not to. But logically, he knew that was not it. Kiku seemed…off, somehow. How skittish he was, the severe way he reacted to being touched, how carefully he chose even his written words… none of it screamed 'choice.' "Not sure." Careful not to let Stelios see, he lifted his arm and reread the jumping, smudged words: _Did someone hit you? _Still confused, Heracles dropped his arm again and blinked. "I did not ask."

"Huh." Stelios shrugged. "Do you think you'll see him again?"

Heracles thought back to earlier that afternoon, sighed, and shook his head. "Probably not." A twinge of melancholy hit as he spoke, but he ignored it. All the past two days had been was a strange string of coincidences. Kiku had likely forgotten him already. "No, I don't think so."

With that, Heracles took out his phone and typed out a meaningless response to one of Sadiq's meaningless messages.

.

"You have a friend."

Kiku just stared at his brother. He was certain he had not used the word 'friend,' considering all he had said was written out in front of his face. Maybe he should not have told him anything. Letting out a resigned sigh, he picked up the pen and attempted to explain himself again. _I have spoken to him twice, Yao. _Kiku chose to skip over the fact that the second time ended in him running away. He was not even sure why he did it. There was just something about what he said, the implication that someone hurt him, that got Kiku remembering. And once he started, he was not able to stop. He never was.

"That's more than you've spoken to anyone since you changed schools. Oh, Kiku, I was afraid this would turn out like…" Yao broke off when Kiku shot him a warning look. "Alright, alright. So, you saw him once at school and ran into him once today?"

Kiku looked down at the floor as he nodded. It was almost painful to see how expressive Yao's eyes suddenly were; as if this was the most exciting news he had received in a decade. He would not even consider the possibility that it actually was.

"What is he like?"

That was a difficult question to answer, and Kiku had to consider it for a moment as his hand hovered over the page. Heracles was a lot of things. For one thing, he was a teenage boy who carried a kitten notebook. _He is, _Kiku picked up the pen again. After mulling over about a dozen different adjectives, he could only settle on one: _quiet. _

Yao stared at the page. "How descriptive." In that moment, Kiku wished he had the luxury of being able to sass his sibling. Yao's eyebrows suddenly drew together. "Wait. Is he…like you?"

Kiku fought the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes and wrote, _No. Of course not. _He had long since grown convinced that there was not a single person on the planet who was 'like him.'

Yao put his hands up. "Okay, so, shy. Got it." Kiku was not entirely sure if that was an accurate way to put it either, but he nodded anyway. Yao raised his chin thoughtfully, crossed his arms and said, "You should invite him over."

He might as well have asked him to bungee jump off the empire state building. Kiku gaped at his brother, hoping his incredulity was at least somewhat apparent in his expression. He had gotten to be somewhat skilled at conveying messages with his eyes, considering he did not have much of a choice. But it never seemed to be enough. Just like every other day, he had to resort to writing. _You must be kidding. _

"Why would I joke about this? He seems nice, Kiku." Kiku continued to stare, and Yao broke eye contact with a sigh. "It might be good for you."

Kiku half-considered asking him how humiliating himself for the third time in a few days would be in any way good for him. But he didn't have the heart, so he simply wrote: _Maybe. _

Yao pursed his lips, paused, and then lifted his hand flippantly. "Okay, fine. Maybe that is a bit premature," he said. Kiku nearly thought he was off the hook when he added, "How about this. Ask for his phone number tomorrow."

Kiku wanted to say that was even worse, that it sounded beyond impossible, that his pulse sped up and his breath hitched just considering it, but he didn't. Yao looked far too hopeful, more so than he had in a long time. Since Kiku switched schools. Since he stopped talking. So, even if he had no real intention of following through, he wrote: _Okay. _With it he managed a small smile, hoping it was enough.

"Thank you, Kiku! It'll be fine. I promise." With that, Yao squeezed his shoulder and retreated into the kitchen. Kiku stood still and alone in the silence for a moment, contemplating. Maybe he would try and talk to Heracles again. After all, it was not that he disliked him.

But the more Kiku thought about it objectively, the more he realized all the past two days had been was a strange string of coincidences. Heracles had likely forgotten him already.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Monday morning, things were just as normal as they possibly could be. Sadiq was talking to Heracles- or rather, talking _at _him- their argument days in the past and forgotten. Heracles nodded along- pretending to hear him, pretending to follow his loud voice and boisterous laughter, pretending the assault on his ears from all directions wasn't already tiring him out. It was normal; it was familiar. Heracles could not really complain.

Though he could not complain, he could not stop his mind from drifting off in other directions, either. His thoughts wandered away from Sadiq and whatever he was saying to the notebook still sitting in his bag, the few pages that actually meant something to him blurred from being read so many times. Thinking of the words sent his traitorous mind to the events of the weekend, namely what happened at the park. The memory sent an embarrassed flush across his cheeks he hoped Sadiq would not notice. He could not even decide what was more upsetting- that it had happened in the first place, that he still could not wrap his head around it, or that it was still bothering him. Letting out a soft, resigned sigh, he allowed his eyes to travel away from Sadiq as well, if only to search for some type of distraction.

The distraction did not end up being a welcome one.

At first, Heracles thought his imagination was simply running away from him. He nearly looked away, nearly turned his attention back to Sadiq, nearly ignored the alarm bells in his head, but something made him do a double take. Something led his eyes down the hallway, past the dense crowds of loud, bustling people to the one thing no one seemed to be noticing. His chest tightened immediately.

The unfamiliar, sneering boy looming over Kiku had practically cornered him. Kiku looked as though he was attempting to sink into the wall- obviously uncomfortable, obviously trying to get away, obviously unable to stand up for himself. His shoulders visibly tensed as the boy jabbed at him, laughing, his words intangible but their intent painfully clear. It took all Heracles had not to bolt immediately. He suddenly did not feel fatigue anymore, only strangely intense, red-hot anger. The emotion was so powerful he could not even wonder why he felt it.

"Herc, what the hell are you looking at?"

Sadiq's voice cut through the heated fog clouding Heracles's mind. "Oh." He tried to keep from scowling, tried to advert his eyes, but he quickly realized he was actually afraid to look away. Kiku was shaking his head now, his face flushed and his attempts to move fruitless. All Heracles knew was he had to get away. "I just remembered," he continued, his mind suddenly blank. He said the first thing that came to mind. "I have to put my jacket away."

Sadiq crossed his arms over his chest with an exasperated huff. "You're not even wearing a jacket."

Heracles glanced quickly at his white t-shirt before immediately returning his line of sight to Kiku, restlessness setting in immediately. The specifics were unimportant. Sadiq was still looking at him, but Heracles looked away. "Right." He started forward and lifted his hand in a lethargic wave. "See you."

Sadiq began a discontented response only to groan and turn away. Heracles barely noticed. All his energy was focused on making his way through the crowd, a disturbing rush in his pulse, his thoughts far too cluttered and fast for his liking. He did not even realize he was moving at a similar pace until he stopped at the end of the hall. The boy in front of Kiku did not even seem to notice. He kept speaking even as Heracles stared directly at him, his voice too loud and too arrogant. Kiku's eyes flitted upwards and Heracles felt his stomach flip. Unable to find a single word to say through his building annoyance but desperate to be heard, Heracles slammed his palm against the wall, stepped in front of Kiku, and glared at the boy as if murder was possible through gaze alone.

Finally, the silence was back. They held eye contact for only seconds before the boy rolled his eyes, turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall. A rush of relief hit so suddenly and forcefully that Heracles nearly lost his breath. But the adrenaline faded just as quickly, embarrassment replacing it as he dropped his hand and flushed. Kiku was staring at him, looking bewildered, and Heracles could only say, "Good morning." This kind of behavior certainly wasn't helping his case. He expected Kiku to scurry away from him again, to act fearfully again, but he only nodded. Relief hit and words came easier. "Are you alright?"

Speaking was, again, unnecessary. Heracles could easily see that Kiku was trembling and unsure, no matter how intent he seemed on holding his gaze. He did not nod or shake his head in response. He didn't even have to. Though he was too pale and his breath was shallow, Kiku looked…unsurprised. A sneaking suspicion told Heracles this was not the first time this had happened, and an even stronger instinct told him this was not the place for either of them right now. He spoke without considering the consequences of his words. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Kiku leaned back further against the wall, and Heracles wondered momentarily if he had made another mistake. The silence grew uncomfortable again, and he fought the urge to smack his own forehead out of humiliation alone. Never in his life had simple interactions with a person been so difficult. Things with Sadiq were never anything less than annoying, but at least being around him came with some semblance of _comfort. _Heracles realized he was already late to the class he had with him. Maybe he should get going…

Heracles was broken from his thoughts when he noticed Kiku nodding, his gaze firm and absolute. Suddenly nothing else mattered- not class, not Sadiq, not anyone else in the building or even the world. For whatever strange, inane reason, all that mattered was getting Kiku away from this place. So he said, "Follow me."

.

Heracles had not bothered to think this far ahead. This was not the first time he had left the school in the middle of the day, so leading Kiku out a back door was not problem. That was not to say he had any idea where they were going. This was the kind of thing he was used to doing alone, and now that he had someone with him, he felt almost self-conscious and strangely responsible. "So," he said as they exited school grounds, Kiku a few steps behind. "Would you like to go anywhere?"

Even if Kiku did have the physical ability to respond, Heracles doubted he would have been able to regardless. His face was suspiciously pale, and he kept glancing to the side as if he expected someone to grab him. It dawned on Heracles that he had likely never skipped a class in his life. That would be quite an impressive feat, considering the way school seemed to be for him. "No one will see us." He looked briefly over his shoulder- perhaps picking up on Kiku's paranoia, perhaps wondering how he got to be that way- and soon matched his pace. "Besides, I don't think we will miss anything."

Kiku glanced to the side one last time, let out a long breath and nodded. Heracles allowed himself to look at him for a moment. Kiku's features were slight, delicate. His posture was perfect as he walked, his hair reflected the light of the morning, and his eyes appeared to grow less and less wary with every step they took. When those eyes met his, perfectly blank and brown, Heracles quickly looked straight-ahead and feigned nonchalance. Silence fell over them again, only broken up by a bird chirping in the distance. Heracles could not say it was uncomfortable. If anything, he got the strange feeling he had missed this kind of quiet.

Heracles did not realize he had been walking to the park until they arrived. It was fitting, he supposed, but he hoped today would not end as disastrously as their last time here. "Would you like to sit down?" he asked. Kiku nodded, and in a somewhat silly attempt to keep history from repeating itself, Heracles avoided the bench entirely and headed for a spot of shade under a nearby tree. Kiku kept by his side, alternating between looking ahead and stealing quick, fleeting glances at Heracles. But perhaps Heracles was only imagining it.

With their bags tossed lazily aside, Heracles laid on his back while Kiku sat against the trunk of the tree. How natural this felt surprised him. Every petty complaint and annoyance he had that morning disappeared as he listened to the wind blow through the trees, smelled the fragrant breeze and watched Kiku wind a blade of grass between his fingers. Words were both impossible and unnecessary. He could not tell how much time passed in this peace because it felt eternal, surreal. It was a different world.

But something caught the corner of Heracles's vision. Time started up again and he sat up, eyes wide, and broke the silence with a whisper. "Kiku," he said, his heart jumping in his chest. "Kiku, look."

Kiku dropped the blade of grass he was playing with. He turned around, eyes narrowed as if he was certain Heracles had lost his mind, but soon he came the closest to smiling that Heracles had ever seen him. Looking entranced, he shifted forward and sat cross-legged a few feet beside him. Then both their eyes were focused on the same fluffy creature a few feet in the distance.

Heracles reached forward slowly, carefully. "Here, kitty kitty." Kiku looked doubtful, but it switched to amazement when the orange tabby stepped in their direction. A bit of gentle coaxing, a series of strange looks from Kiku and a lapse in dignity later, the cat was close enough to touch. A warm ache spread across Heracles's chest as he scratched behind its ears. "So cute…" He looked away just long enough to see that Kiku was dumbfounded. He shrugged, unable to explain. This was not the first time this had happened at all, actually. Cats seemed to just…come to him. He shrugged it off. "Aren't cats wonderful, Kiku? They are so soft and sweet. I love them, and they remind me of my-" He stopped himself. This was not the time for that.

Kiku turned his attention from the cat. He tilted his head and looked blankly at Heracles, seemingly awaiting an explanation, and Heracles stared back as his thoughts flew into a wild tailspin. He looked down as the overly trusting cat leapt to his lap, his stomach flipping, and quickly changed the topic the only way he knew how. "Do you like cats as well?"

There was an inevitable pause. Kiku actually opened his mouth, his eyes flashing as though he had something to say- perhaps an explanation, perhaps a story Heracles would have loved to hear- but of course he closed it again. After an inaudible sigh, he nodded only once. The act looked almost reluctant.

An ache of sympathy hit like a punch to the stomach. As Heracles lifted the cat and placed it in Kiku's lap, the question he had been sitting with finally became words he regret almost before he said them. "Is it ever frustrating?" Kiku looked confused. Heracles shook his head, flustered, and tried to explain. "Not being able to speak, I mean."

Kiku's shoulders fell. He dropped his gaze to his lap and ran a hand absently over the cat's fur, nodding again, this time more resolutely.

"Oh." Heracles felt a stab of something guilty and sickening. What an insensitive question that was. He glanced over his shoulder to their bags, both containing paper but neither of their owners seemingly willing to go retrieve it. "Do you…" Another question rattled in his head, another he was not sure if he should ask but desperately wanted the answer to. So he took a breath and asked, "Do you perhaps know any sign language?"

Kiku met his eyes again, beginning to look less hurt and more intrigued. He lifted a hand and rocked it side to side: _some. _

Heracles leaned forward. This was the kind of answer he had partially hoped for, but had definitely not expected. It did not even matter that Kiku had not said a single word to him- he keep getting more and more interesting regardless. "Really?" He looked about the park, searching, but of course his eyes fell back to the tabby. "Do you know the sign for 'cat?'"

Kiku looked to the sky. A moment passed in silent contemplation before he nodded again, visibly relaxing, and the motions flowed easily. He pinched his thumbs and forefingers together, brought them to his face and made a swooping motion with both hands. It looked as if he was pulling on invisible whiskers.

It was almost too sweet to be an actual sign. Thoroughly endeared, Heracles repeated the motion with ease. Kiku smiled so faintly he could very well have imagined it and raised his hand in a lethargic thumbs-up. Heracles felt almost embarrassingly accomplished. "What about…" His eyes fell to Kiku. He was still holding the cat, still maybe smiling, and Heracles found himself concentrating so hard on trying to tell if he actually was or not that his mind went suddenly blank. He said the first word to pop into his mind. "Love."

For a moment Kiku looked about ready to have a heart attack. His eyes flew open, his hand tensed so dramatically that the cat flinched, and for a second of insanity Heracles wondered if he was going to bolt away again. But his slightly panicked expression faded just as quickly as it appeared, and then he simply crossed his arms over his chest.

Heracles did the same. "This means 'love?'" he asked. Kiku nodded, and Heracles could not help but smile. If every sign was this simple and charming, he was certain he would be able to communicate with Kiku in no time. The idea was a bit more appealing than it ought to be.

.

An hour later, the tabby still sitting between them, Heracles realized he had overestimated his signing abilities. Kiku had shown him just about every sign he knew, each seemingly more complicated and difficult to remember than the last. A few actual sentences were attempted, but the only one Heracles was able to latch onto was the very first one he learned: _I love cats. _

Maybe part of the problem was how little Heracles was actually concentrating on the signs themselves. With Kiku's eyes on him, he was entirely certain remembering which way he was meant to turn his hand was an unreasonable expectation to place on him. When Kiku had actually taken hold of his arm to correct him on the sign for tree- or maybe it was flower, or dog, Heracles could not even remember- he resigned to the fact that his mind was too cluttered to commit anything else to memory.

Now that Kiku had likely long since deemed him unteachable, his hands fell out of whatever sign he was attempting to show him, his eyes flicked downward, and he reached into his pocket.

Heracles looked at the object in his hand, and this time he did understand. Kiku was holding out his phone as hesitantly as it could be done, contacts screen already illuminated, his face red and eyes uncertain. At first Heracles was taken off guard by the abruptness, but he immediately got over it. "You want my number?" he asked, partially incredulous, partially…flattered. Something closer to excitement set in when Kiku nodded again. "Oh. Alright, sure." Heracles retrieved his own phone from his back pocket. He flicked past the many missed messages from Sadiq- most involving caps-lock abuse- opened his own contacts, and exchanged with Kiku.

After he got his phone back, Heracles only stared at the screen. Of course, Kiku had typed his name above the number. It was a nice name, Heracles really did like it, but…it could not stay. It could not stay because Sadiq might see it. As soon as the thought passed his mind, the moment of calm immediately faded and Heracles filled almost unbearably with guilt. He was not even sure why; it was not as if he had done anything wrong. Still, he could not stop an inexplicable flush of shame from spreading across his neck as he said, "Kiku, do you mind if I put your name in as something else?"

Kiku narrowed his eyes, looking a little thrown, but shrugged anyway.

Heracles grappled for a cover- wondering why he needed one, trying to convince himself this was okay, a little dejected that he had to- and stumbled across something nearly brilliant in his frenzy. "I think I will use…" As he typed, the unpleasant feeling dissipated. "Harpocrates." Kiku still looked dazed, so Heracles went on to explain, beginning to smile only because he could not help it. "The God of silence."

This time, there was no doubt Kiku was smiling.

.

Sadiq sat against the brick wall behind the school, pushing smoke through his teeth and flicking ashes every which way. He was supposed to be in class, but if Heracles hadn't even bothered to stay in the building, why should he? He usually smoked to calm himself down, but today it was not working. "That goddamn Greek," he mumbled, wincing as his eyes burned. He wished he didn't know why he always let Heracles get the best of him, but he did. The reason was painfully clear.

It was because Sadiq loved him, goddammit.

Sadiq would be the first to admit he was not the romantic type. He wasn't the kind of person to buy someone flowers, he found sweet nothings nauseating and the idea of holding hands felt ridiculous. Honestly, someone would have to physically twist his arm if they wanted an 'I love you' out of him, regardless of how much he felt it. But it had happened a few times. Sadiq was only human, after all.

The first time had been with Heracles, and it sure as hell wasn't anything to write home about. They had not confessed their undying love for each other in the pouring rain; the ground had not split beneath their feet. It had been after class, and a split second before Sadiq turned in the other direction, he had slapped Heracles on the back, laughed, and said, _"Love you, Jerkules. Now go away." _

He remembered how confused Heracles had looked when he glanced over his shoulder, how irritated he was when he realized he had let it slip, how quickly he had walked away. Sadiq was nearly able to smirk at the memory as he took another drag of the cigarette. Things with Heracles had never been simple or 'cute.' There had always been arguments, always been red-hot looks of disgust and ice-cold periods of silence, always been a million feelings Sadiq could not express if he tried for an ice age. But now the arguments were happening more often than not, the silences were going unbroken for longer and longer stretches of time. Sadiq sighed, dropped the cigarette and stomped it out. At least Heracles talked to him when they fought. Sometimes.

"Are you alright?"

Sadiq looked up in the direction of the voice- warm, feminine- and saw a girl looking down at him. Her expression showed faint concern, much like her voice. He recognized her from one of his classes- Katyusha. She was quiet, and Sadiq doubted anyone would know her at all if it weren't for her infamously terrifying brother and her curves. They had never spoken before. Sadiq wondered momentarily why she was here, why she cared at all, but quickly brushed it off. Honestly, he could use the company. "Oh," he said finally. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He expected her to walk away. He did not expect her to sit down beside him, cross her legs and smile at him, quick and shy. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Sadiq narrowed his eyes, a bit confused, then shrugged. "Uh…go ahead." Having company didn't seem to bad, even if Katyusha was practically a stranger. After all, Heracles seemed to love running around with strangers. Sadiq bit his cheek. "I would think you should be in class, though."

"Oh, no! I am free this period." She spoke quickly, her voice jumping as she wrung her hands together. "Should you be in class?"

Sadiq shrugged. "Yeah, but I decided I needed a break." Apparently Heracles had decided the same thing. The last Sadiq had seen him was that morning, moments before he ran off with that same Asian kid he was walking with the other day. Maybe he was overreacting, maybe it was a nonissue, but he could not help but notice how Heracles's eyes lit up when he saw that kid, how urgent he was about getting to him. Sadiq could not even remember how long it had been since Heracles had looked at _him_ that way. Oh well. It probably didn't matter. And he sure as hell wasn't _jealous. _"You know how it is," he added uselessly.

"Of course." Katyusha rested her chin in her hand and met his gaze. Sadiq could only wonder why she looked so interested. "What made you decide you needed break?"

"Ah. Well…" Sadiq trailed off and wondered how he should put this. Actually, why was he explaining this at all? It was not as if this was any of her business, or as if saying it aloud would somehow fix the mounting problems. Whatever. It couldn't exactly hurt, either, so he said, "My friend is pissing me off. Nothing serious." Friend, right. That was only about five percent of the story, but Sadiq could not bring himself to delve any further into it. Admitting it would mean accepting it, and he was not ready for that. Really, he was not even ready to admit there was anything to admit. What a mess this was.

Katyusha's eyes widened. "I am sorry! I hope things will be better."

Sadiq was flat out shocked by the blatant concern in her voice and the speed of her response. He had grown to expect silence, since Heracles always seemed to forget to speak to him. He was used to flat, emotionless, often wordless reactions to everything he said. This was certainly new… and far from unpleasant. "Thanks. I hope so too."

Katyusha nodded once, her eyes cast downward. "I believe we have classes together." She lifted her gaze to meet Sadiq's, a faint smile on her lips. "Is a shame we have never spoken before."

"I guess. But you could have spoken to me whenever you wanted to, you know." Sadiq considered lighting another cigarette but decided against it. Something told him Katyusha would not be appreciative, and for whatever reason, that actually mattered to him. "I don't bite. I promise."

Katyusha pressed her hand to her mouth and giggled. Sadiq watched as her face flushed a slight pink, blonde hair falling into blue eyes, and could not help but smirk at the sight. He could not remember the last time he had made someone laugh. "I believe I can see this, Sadiq." She did not break eye contact, and Sadiq could not quite bring himself to do it either. "You are not scary."

Sadiq could only wonder why he was relieved.

The rest of the period passed easily, with light conversation that nearly tore Sadiq's mind from Heracles. Nearly. He and Katyusha spoke of unimportant things- classes, the weather, their friends. Though he still clung stubbornly to the back of his thoughts, Sadiq successfully kept himself from mentioning Heracles directly, only flippantly referring to a 'friend' who had been getting on his nerves. Katyusha tended to speak quickly, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, and Sadiq could not help but be strangely captivated by her jumping accent. Half the time he was not even certain what she was saying. But it was nice having someone's undivided attention for once.

Katyusha frowned as a bell sounded from somewhere inside. "Oh, is about time to go to class."

Sadiq had absolutely no intention of going anyway. Still, he said, "I guess so." Now that the period of distraction has passed, he retrieved his phone, checked for messages and grimaced when there was none. Whatever Heracles was doing, it had better be important. Sadiq bit his cheek to keep from scowling even further. "Have fun."

Katyusha paused, almost as if she was waiting for something, then reached across and covered Sadiq's hand with hers. "It was nice speaking to you, Sadiq. I hope to see you again soon." She let her hand linger for just a second too long, then rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her pant leg. "Good luck with your friend." Another small smile, a slight wave goodbye, and she started off towards the building.

Luck, right. Sadiq actually laughed. At this point, he would need a miracle.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Happy Birthday Hima!**

* * *

Heracles had never liked the taste of cigarettes… especially when that taste was on Sadiq.

A lot about this was unpleasant, really: Heracles's bare back scraping against the wall, Sadiq grasping his thighs hard enough to leave marks, his stubble scratching his cheek, his breath on his neck and his voice in his ear. Maybe it was Sadiq in general. Heracles resented the fact that he had to hold onto Sadiq to keep him upright, that he had to kiss him to reclaim the silence. Heracles grimaced as he broke away. He really hated that taste. Silence remained, and he let his eyes close.

Sadiq groaned in protest. "Open your eyes, Herc."

This was not the first time Sadiq had made this demand, and it was not the first time Heracles silently refused. He had to keep his eyes closed, had to stay in his own world, had to focus on the physical aspect and ignore everything else. There was nothing else left. He did not want to admit that to himself, nor would he admit he would do nothing to change, fix, or stop it. So Heracles tried to fall into the rhythm, trying to find his release, trying to forget. It was what he was used to doing. It was all he could do.

But it was not working. Heracles could not even pretend he liked this anymore. It was rough, it was impersonal, and the pleasure he got from it was shallow. It was meaningless. At one point in time, he had craved meaningless, craved the shallow escape this has provided…. But somewhere along the line, something had changed. So he did not open his eyes, ignored the husky noises Sadiq was making and how uncomfortable this position was… and soon his mind started to wander.

Heracles really did try to stop it. He knew it was wrong, that it was unfair, and it was just… disrespectful, to everyone involved. Despite it all, no matter how hard he tried, Heracles could not drag his thoughts away from warm brown eyes, shining black hair, a gentle touch. He could not help but wonder what it would be like to have those hands on his skin, soft and smooth, trailing gently down his torso, rather than calloused, heavy hands grabbing him and hurting him. What it would be like to run his hands through that hair, to see those eyes looking up at him and voicing a silent plea. _Please…_ Heracles could not hold it back. He tipped his head back and moaned for all the wrong reasons.

"Finally," mumbled Sadiq, low and impatient.

Heracles blocked out the words but rolled his hips anyway- because he wanted this, but in a different way, with someone else, where words were not necessary. Then it would be gentle, it would be quiet, it would be beautiful. Then it would mean something. So in spite of his morals, that was the fantasy Heracles clung to. That was what made his spine flush with heat, his breath grow heavier, and the room fall away from him.

Then it was working. It was almost embarrassing how quickly his mind clouded over, all of it sharpened, lowered, pulsing through his body in electric shocks almost as strong as the guilt, both more powerful than he had ever felt. Heracles dug his nails into Sadiq's shoulders and bit his lip to keep from calling out the wrong name.

"Damn, Herc. I was beginning to think you would never make this interesting."

Then, Heracles felt the grip on his legs release and his feet touch the floor again. His fantasy fizzled out and he finally opened his eyes, and he was back in this room, back with Sadiq, and back to feeling ashamed. Though nudity had never been something he was bothered by, he found himself scrambling into his clothes as quickly as he could locate them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sadiq tug his jeans on- nothing else. He was grinning smugly, his thumbs in his belt loops and his shoulders squared. He saw Heracles looking, winked, flexed, and then started laughing again. Heracles quickly looked away.

"Hey, you got a message." Heracles lifted his eyes to see Sadiq picking up his phone, his eyebrows drawn together and his grin dissolving into a scowl. "Who in the hell is 'Harpocrates?'"

Kiku. Heracles nearly stopped breathing, his face going up in flames and his stomach clutching in embarrassment and guilt. What had caused him to think about him that way? Surely it was just a strange, one time thing. It had to be. "Oh, that is…" Heracles paused. "A relative. They live in Greece," he said and then closed his eyes painfully. As if his traitorous thoughts were not enough, now he was lying. Maybe he was not overly fond of Sadiq lately, maybe Sadiq did not treat him terribly well, but Heracles took this kind of thing seriously. He quickly told himself he was only avoiding the truth for the sake of convenience, his fantasies were inexplicable and involuntary, and he was not actually hiding anything. He was not about to turn into the kind of person he hated.

"Oh." Sadiq shrugged. "You Greeks have the weirdest names." Then he laughed again and tossed the phone carelessly in Heracles's direction. Heracles flailed, just barely caught it, and scowled. Still, he could not help but feel just a little relieved- because Sadiq believed him, and he could avoid his ridiculous jealousy today. There would not be any shouting.

It was not until nearly a minute later that Heracles looked down at the screen. The message read: _Hello, Heracles. I hope you are having a nice day. I am messaging you to ask how that cat is doing… she followed you home, correct? _

Heracles smiled down at the screen. Even in this casual of a medium, Kiku still wrote like he was conducting a business letter. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, saw Sadiq was occupied, and typed out a response. _Yes, she is just fine. The last I saw her she was curled up in my backyard. So cute…_

Not a full minute based before the phone buzzed again. Heracles read the message immediately. _Oh, good. That cat seems to have taken an immediate liking to you. _

Out of the corner of his eye, Heracles saw Sadiq collapse on the sofa and light a cigarette. He wrinkled his nose, turned away, and wondered momentarily if Kiku was the kind to smoke before shaking his head. No, of course not. He was too clean for that. He typed: _I suppose I should give her a name. _

Another brief pause, another immediate response. _Are you sure? Perhaps she belongs to someone else. _

Heracles's gaze shifted slowly back to Sadiq. If that was true, he seemed to have something in common with that cat… he shook his head with far more vigor that what was necessary. _No, I am sure she is a stray. _

"Hey Jerkules, are you just going to stand there all day? Why don't you sit with me?"

"Oh." Without tearing his eyes from the phone, Heracles lifted a hand and waved it flippantly. "Give me a moment." He heard Sadiq groan, could almost feel him rolling his eyes behind his back, but he ignored all of it. Instead he concentrated on the screen, perhaps a bit too hard. Heracles did not realize he had been holding his breath until another message popped up and the air came rushing back into his lungs.

_I suppose you should name her, then. Did you have anything in mind? _

Heracles thought for a moment. _I was considering naming her after an ancient deity. _His hand hovered over the keyboard, and after a moment he added: _What do you think, Kiku? _

_I think that sounds lovely. _A moment later, the phone buzzed again. _It is only a suggestion, but since the first two signs I taught you the day you found her were for 'cat' and 'love,' I feel the name Aphrodite would be appropriate. _

"Since when are you so chatty with your relatives, Herc? Christ!"

Again, Heracles ignored Sadiq's loud protests. This time, however, they did not upset him, because he was smiling too wide, his pulse was too quick, and he could not remember the last time he had this much energy. His fingers practically flew across the keys. _Aphrodite…That sounds perfect. _

This time, there was no immediate response. Heracles stared at the screen with an almost absurd amount of concentration- perhaps out of unfamiliar impatience, perhaps because there was nothing else in the room he would like to look at- all while ignoring the little balls of paper Sadiq had taken to throwing at him, as well he as the way he endlessly chanted his name. Blocking him out had become surprisingly easy.

When the phone went off again, it felt like a buzz saw drilling into Heracles's hand. His stomach leapt when he saw this message was at least twice as long and seemingly thought out as any of the previous. _Heracles, I have something to ask you. This may seem a bit out of the blue, but I would like to invite you to my home for lunch. You can decline, of course, but I would very much like if you came._ Before Heracles could even register the words, another message popped in its place almost like a cover-up. _Maybe that is too sudden. I apologize._

Even in a textual format, Heracles could practically hear the franticness behind his words. Just like every other time he and Kiku had spoken, he could wonder where that sudden panic came from, why he was so quick to go back on himself. But there was only one way to find out. Heart racing with anticipation, mind numbed to everything else around him, Heracles answered with full honesty. _I would love to. _

He slid the phone back in his pocket, and Heracles was hit with the sudden urge to start moving. There, again, was a newfound jolt of energy that he was slowly growing accustomed to. It seemed like Kiku was caffeine… "You're so damn frustrating, Herc." …And Sadiq was the exhausting, permanent thorn in his side. He was suddenly standing behind him, his bare chest against Heracles's back and his stubble scratching his neck. His hands were like a vice on his sides. "Ready for round two?"

Heracles hadn't been ready for the first round. He felt his face heat up when he remembered where his mind had gone, pulled away and forced himself to look Sadiq in the eye. "I think I will get going, actually."

"Oh." Sadiq's smile fell from his face. Something that was nearly a grimace replaced it, but it did not quite get there. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Why are you always rushing out of here? You can…stay, you know. It doesn't affect me any."

Of course it did not affect him any. Nothing ever did. Heracles, on the other hand, was very affected- by Kiku trusting him enough to invite him over, by his rare, shy smile, by his pained hesitance over just about everything that Heracles was, for whatever reason, determined to get to the bottom of. And that would not happen if he stuck around. "I really do have to go." Heracles did not say anything else, did not give Sadiq time to kiss him, did not even give him time to respond. He simply left.

If only leaving was always so easy.

.

Another hour, a string of overly polite text messages and a strange jolt of nerves later, Heracles was standing in front of Kiku's house. And that was all he was doing- standing, with a slew of thoughts running through his mind far too quickly. Unfamiliar torrents of energy caused him to wring his hands together. He debated if he should have brought something even if Kiku had specifically told him not to, if it would be best to knock, ring the doorbell or _run… _Heracles took a long, cleansing breath. How ridiculous it was to be feeling this way.

Without allowing himself a second more to think about it, he curled his hand into a fist and rapped at the door as if he were mad at it. Almost immediately, he flinched at the harsh sound and pulled back. That sounded a bit violent. For the second time that minute, Heracles considered bolting before Kiku had a chance to open the door like a troublesome child on Halloween. It seemed more than just verbal communication had gotten to be difficult.

It felt as though not a second had passed before the door flew open. Heracles stepped back instinctively; his heart in his throat, only to see that it was not Kiku standing in front of him. The man who met him instead about Kiku's height, but his long hair, older features and flurry of words set him worlds apart. "You must be Heracles." He held out his hand and Heracles took it, a bit confused but unwilling to show it. "I'm Yao, Kiku's brother. Come in, please."

The first thing Heracles noticed was how clean the house was. Red walls offset the spotless black counters, not a stray piece of clutter or cat toy in sight. The second thing he noticed was the silence- empty and uncomfortable, the kind that made him feel like something was missing. "Your house is very nice," he said if only just to say something, his eyes searching. For a moment of crippling self-doubt that rendered his voice useless, Heracles was completely certain Kiku was hiding from him.

Yao might as well have read his mind. "Kiku should be around here somewhere. He has said quite a lot about you, you know." He paused, his face going blank, and finally shrugged. "Well, maybe not _said, _but…"

Before Heracles had time to wonder about that, Kiku stumbled in from the next room. The fiery glint in his eyes was enough to silence Yao, who raised his hands as if to resign. Heracles smiled, waved lightly, and managed to meet Kiku's eyes. "Hello."

Kiku nodded back in response, then brushed a few flyaway strands of hair from his brow. Heracles found himself looking at his hands- soft, slight, probably quite bold if he wanted them to be… Heracles bit down on his cheek and looked away, resolved to pretending the thoughts in his head did not exist. They had no business being there.

"Anyway," said Yao suddenly, loud enough to shatter the strange, uncomfortable silence they had fallen in the middle of. "Lunch is ready, if you two want to sit down."

"Oh, sure." Heracles could only look at Kiku for a split second- he was sure his embarrassment would get the best of him otherwise. But in that short span of time he noticed Kiku was unsure in his stance, nearly unsteady in it, his eyes going wide at the slightest of sounds and his gaze dropping to the floor like an active grenade whenever Heracles or Yao tried to meet it. Then, the memory of that afternoon felt unimportant. Heracles could not help but ask, "Are you alright?"

Kiku snapped to attention and nodded as if he was responding to an order. It should have been enough, but some small, nagging part of Heracles could not help but think the act was a lie. But perhaps he was only overthinking things again.

.

Lunch ended up being… uncomfortable, in the simplest of terms. For whatever reason, Yao treated silence like a life-long enemy and would do nearly anything to avoid it, even if that meant ignoring Kiku entirely and focusing on making conversation with Heracles however he could. He asked about his classes, his hobbies… at one point Yao asked how Heracles felt about the weather. At least he had not asked too much about this family. That, Heracles was not prepared to answer.

Heracles, on the other hand, was not about to ignore Kiku. In fact he was simply unable to. Everything about him managed to hold his attention; from his tendency to bounce his legs under the table to the way he kept chewing on his lip to the few brief, nervous glances he stole at him. Kiku had not said a word, yet Heracles was positively captivated. He only wished he had more yes or no questions to ask. By the end of the meal he was sure he was out of them.

"Thank you for lunch," said Heracles as he stood. Once his feet hit the floor, he could not help but feel just the slightest bit relieved. He was not used to carrying an entire conversation, especially with someone he hardly knew. That was usually the job of someone louder than him. Between that, the time he spent with Sadiq, his mind going everywhere he didn't want it to and his strange self-consciousness around Kiku, he was suddenly very, very tired. At least that much was familiar.

"Not a problem. It was a pleasure having you." Yao spoke a bit too enthusiastically, his smile a bit too wide. Heracles sensed something artificial about the whole situation, but he could not trace it back to any one detail. Just about everything felt a little off. Yao twisted his hands together and turned to Kiku. "Kiku, why don't you show Heracles your room?"

For what was probably the first time that afternoon, Kiku met Yao's gaze and held it for more than a second. A long, silent moment passed before the corner of Kiku's mouth twitched, he turned away and looked towards Heracles. His eyes held both an apology and a question.

Heracles was not entirely sure how to respond. The thought of being in Kiku's room tightened his lungs no matter how much he wished it didn't, but unlike how he felt when he was with Sadiq, he had no desire to rush out. It was almost paradoxical, how this situation bordered on uncomfortable yet he had no desire to get out of it. "I think I would like that."

Heracles wondered momentarily if this was a good idea. He wondered if this was okay, how Sadiq would react if he knew, even if his intentions were nothing but innocent and he had no objective to change them. Sadiq got testy if Heracles so much as _looked_ at anyone else. If he found out he was in some guy's room… Heracles did not even want to think about it. He hesitated, conflicted, only to see Kiku was finally looking at him. And he was nearly smiling. Then, any semblance of doubt was erased. Heracles smiled back, nodded, and followed Kiku upstairs.

As expected, Kiku's room was immaculate. The books were lined up perfectly on their shelves- Heracles would not be at all surprised if they were in alphabetical order- the ground was spotless, and the walls were barren save for a few posters. What Heracles did not expect was for the posters to house colorful cartoon characters.

"Your room is lovely," said Heracles honestly. "I like your posters." That was not a lie either. The art was quite nice to look at, after all, even if he could no pronounce any of the words.

Still, Kiku flushed a rather interesting shade of pink and shrugged. It almost came across as an apology.

Heracles grappled for words. This constant requirement that he fill the silence was definitely an unfamiliar one, it actually bordered on frustrating, but he supposed he had better get used to it. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small sacrifice. "Your brother is very nice. His cooking is excellent, too."

It was then that Kiku walked over to the desk in the corner of the room, opened the drawer, and fished out a notebook and pen. Heracles was almost embarrassingly relieved… and a bit excited. Finally, he and Kiku could have a real conversation. Anticipation stirred in his gut as he watched Kiku write. When he held up the page, Heracles noticed the words were more of a frantic scrawl. _Sorry about him. _

Heracles was unsure what to make of the words. Yao had been nothing but courteous to him, and an apology hardly seemed warranted. "Why?"

The handwriting was neater this time around. _I rarely have people over, and he gets a bit too excited when I do. _That sounded reasonable enough. Heracles nearly responded, but stopped himself when Kiku got to writing again. He paused several times, seemingly unsure, until he finished with a visibly deliberate period and a resigned sigh. _He probably thinks it is a near miracle you showed up. _

Now, _that _sounded completely unreasonable. Kiku was so kind; Heracles found it very hard to believe people would not want to be around him. Even if he could not physically say a word, the few short conversations they had were some of the most fulfilling Heracles could remember having in a long time. He certainly could not ask Sadiq what ancient deity he should name a cat after. "Of course I showed up, why would I not?" Heracles swallowed hard, debating if he should continue. He did anyway. "I really enjoy your company, Kiku."

He could have sworn Kiku smiled, but he raised the notebook enough to obstruct his mouth almost immediately. _Thank you. _He lowered it and wrote slowly, deliberately, then turned notebook back around as if he was afraid to. _I feel the same. _

Heracles tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his heart from soaring. He probably should not be reacting this way yet he was powerless to stop it. "Oh, uh…" He cleared his throat and tried to slow his unruly pulse. "Thanks."

As if to physically break a barrier, Kiku walked to the center of the room and sat on the floor. He seemed to purposely avoid the bed, which was interesting… Heracles stopped himself and sat across from him. The page he had been using was now full, so Kiku laid the notebook on his lap and flipped the page. Heracles watched as he did so, and one small detail caught his eye: the small, surprisingly intricate drawing of a cat on the back of the page. "That's neat," he said without thinking. "Do you draw often?"

Kiku immediately slammed the notebook back against his lap to cover the offending page, but it looked to be more out of instinct than anything. He paused, shrugged again, and slowly nodded.

Heracles smiled, genuinely impressed. First it was philosophy, then sign language, now drawing… could Kiku get any more interesting? "Can you show me?" he asked and then wondered if he was pushing his luck. "I mean, if that is okay with you."

This time Kiku hesitated only momentarily. He picked up the pen, stared down at the blank page, and allowed his hand to hover over it before he sketched a few careful lines. Heracles watched, captivated, as those lines morphed into whiskers, eyes, and a short, stout body. Its large eyes seemed to stare at him from the page. As a finishing touch, Kiku added a small heart on the cat's side.

At that point, Heracles was thoroughly endeared. "That's…adorable, wow." He stared at the page and wondered if he could pick this up any better than he did sign language. If that was what he would compare it to, the bar was not set incredibly high. "Can I try?"

Kiku pushed the notebook towards him. Heracles had only drawn a handful of times in his life, but he was very familiar with cats, and he found it was not too difficult to at least imitate that stylized way Kiku drew them. What he ended up with was not perfect- the eyes looked a little square, the tail was probably too short- but it was not a disaster. That in itself was a victory. A small one, but a victory all the same.

"He's not quite as good as yours," said Heracles, catching Kiku's attention as he placed the book between them, "but he is still rather cute."

_Nice job. He is definitely cute, _Kiku wrote in the margins.

_'__Like you…' _Heracles blinked against the intrusive thought, and another sharp stab of guilt wedged itself between his ribs. He made the mistake of looking up, eye contact was made, his chest tightened and the guilt intensified all at the same moment. He tried to think of Sadiq; he wished pulling his attention to him was easier than it was. Kiku kept looking at him, his eyes wide in confusion, and Heracles lost the battle entirely.

Though he was reluctant to take it, there was only one real option left. "I apologize, but I think I need to get going." Heracles felt his stomach drop. He ignored it. "I have to feed Aphrodite." At least that was not a lie, except perhaps by omission. Heracles was already so, so sick of lying. He had already told himself he was not about to become the kind of person he hated, yet the more he looked at Kiku and the further he stretched the truth, the closer he seemed to get. And that was nauseating.

Kiku looked a bit taken aback- perhaps even hurt, though Heracles refused to even think about that- but that was not obvious by his writing. _Alright, I understand. It was nice to seeing you today. _

"Nice to seeing…" Heracles read the words under his breath, a bit confused why they sounded off, but soon realized the mistake. He spoke without thinking. "Oh, you meant 'see,' right?"

Kiku picked up the pen so fast Heracles was actually startled by it. He crossed out his last sentence with heavy, shaking lines, and his next was just as tremulous. _Sorry sorry English is not my first language I really do try not to make mistakes like this I know it does not sound very intelligent sorry… _

He kept going, but Heracles did not continue reading. He was too perplexed to keep up with it. "You are very hard on yourself, Kiku, it really is not a big deal." But Kiku was not listening. He was still writing some explanation that was not needed, apologies for crimes he did not commit. Heracles should have been used to these severe reactions by now, but they still managed to stun him each and every time, and the emotion always came with a jolt of sympathy. It probably crossed every line in existence, but Heracles could think of nothing to do but reach across the space between them and cover Kiku's hand with his.

Like a storm clearing, Kiku broke free from his haze. When he looked up, his face was a deep red, his eyes were bleary, and his hand felt clammy and unstable in Heracles's hold. Heracles tried to ignore the fire beneath his skin. It took too long for him to find both his voice and his head. "English is not my first language either." Kiku tilted his head, the focus returning to his eyes, and Heracles continued. "I spoke only Greek growing up. I also make mistakes sometimes."

Kiku's eyes flitted downwards, and Heracles realized he was still holding his hand. He quickly dropped it. Kiku pulled back slowly, flipped the page again, and hid his panicked rant from view. It was not until he started writing that he dropped Heracles's careful gaze. Heracles took too long to look down. _English is very difficult_, the page read. Heracles nodded vigorously at that. It had taken him years to learn how to speak this ridiculous language coherently. On the next line, Kiku wrote, _I apologize for that. _

"Don't apologize," said Heracles quickly. Just like he was tired of stretching the truth, tired of his traitorous mind, he was tired of Kiku's apologies- not because they annoyed him, but because he had nothing to be sorry for. If anything, Heracles should be thanking him.

Kiku jotted something else down._ Did you say you had to go? _

Heracles looked up, noticed the reluctance in Kiku's eyes, and threw caution to the wind. "Actually, I believe I was too hasty. I can stay, if that would be alright."

When Kiku nodded immediately, Heracles knew he had made the right decision.

.

By the time Heracles was walking home, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and the air had already gone still and cold. Kiku had a way of making time go by very quickly. In the few hours they had spent on the floor of his room, they discussed a variety of things, things that went beyond school and the weather, but Heracles was positive Kiku could have sat there and drew lines in his notebook the entire time and still hold his undivided attention.

Even though Kiku had told Heracles some things- how he had struggled with English when he first moved from Japan, how he had not liked the first school he attended in America- Heracles could not shake the small, nagging feeling that Kiku had much more complicated a past than he put on. There had to be an explanation for his jumpiness, how easy it was for him to panic, most prominently his lack of words. He could not believe all of that was over nothing.

Heracles kicked a rock down the sidewalk and shrugged to himself. He supposed he had no reason to expect to know every detail. They had just met. Besides, expecting such openness would be rather hypocritical considering Heracles had not said a word about his mother, his family in general… in fact he had not even brought up Sadiq's name. As far as he knew, Kiku did not know Sadiq even existed. What was even worse was Heracles had little desire to change that.

He would need to bring him up eventually. Heracles knew that much. He was not even sure why he was avoiding it- if Sadiq simply embarrassed him, if he was worried Kiku would find this kind of relationship strange, or even if it was only out of lack of opportunity. He ran over that afternoon's conversation in his head, and as far as he knew, there was no place he could have appropriately mentioned having a loud, obnoxious Turkish boyfriend who he recently could not stand. That certainly would have put a damper on the mood.

Though walking usually cleared his head, Heracles's thoughts were the most cluttered they had been that day by the time he reached his house. He was overwhelmed by thoughts of Kiku, of Sadiq, of strong emotions he could not place and even stronger ones he could not afford to feel. However, all of seemed to quiet down when he opened the door and Aphrodite rushed to greet him. He smiled down at her, and it was suddenly easy to breathe. "Hello."

Before Heracles could so much as step inside, Aphrodite turned from him and scampered away in the other direction. Heracles shut the door behind him and followed perplexedly. By the time he caught up with her, Aphrodite was scratching at the screen door by the backyard, eyes wide and focused on something outside. "Do you have something to show me?" he asked as if he expected an answer. When he was met with nothing but more loud mewling, Heracles lowered his gaze. What he saw was a surprise but not an unwelcome one- a ball of orange fur, curled up and sleeping on the doorstep.

"Wow, you found a friend. How wonderful." Heracles opened the door, stooped down to one knee, and took this new cat in his hands. It was surprisingly complacent with him. He smiled and asked, "Where do you keep coming from?" At that moment he forgot he had any problems at all. After all, this was the complete opposite of one.

By the time Heracles managed to put out some food, settle on the couch with the two of them and send Kiku a picture of the new arrival- because, really, who else would help him think of a name- he felt completely at ease. On days where it seemed as though everything in the world was coming at him at once, it was quiet, peaceful moments like this that got him through.

But when his phone vibrated against the table and shattered the silence, Heracles could not say he was upset about the intrusion. He picked it up and read the message on the screen.

_Harpocrates: Wow, so they just show up like this? He is very cute. I wish I could meet him. _

Heracles stared at the phone, and for a moment everything he had been worrying about prior to coming home came crashing back into him at once. He found himself debating- between his heart and his head, between what was a good idea now and what would be in the long run, between what was familiar and easy and what was new and fulfilling. All lines had seemed to blur. Then he thought back to Kiku's conflicted eyes, his careful hands, his slight, fleeting smile, and he typed a response before he could finish thinking all of it through.

_Well, sure you can. Why don't you drop by tomorrow?_

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, Sadiq! There you are!"

When Sadiq turned to face the voice, he was not at all surprised to see Katyusha walking towards him. Though he wasn't sure why, he could not help but notice she had been playing a lot more attention to him recently. She never seemed to miss an opportunity to talk to him, whether it was during class, after, or on a couple occasions, when she had a period free and Sadiq was ditching. That was not to say it bothered him. If anything it confused him, because nearly everyone- including his own boyfriend, for Christ's sakes- had a strange tendency to ignore him. Oh well. It was their loss.

Sadiq brushed that aside and said, "Oh, hey."

Katyusha looked flushed by the time she got to him, her hands wrung together and a stitch of apprehension in her eyes. "Good morning." She bit her lip, and Sadiq did not realize he was staring until she looked him in the eye and began speaking again. "I have something to ask you today, Sadiq."

"Alright." Sadiq shrugged. "Shoot."

Katyusha took a breath and spoke quickly. "Well, Alfred Jones is having a party this Saturday, and I was wondering…" She trailed off, paused, and slowly flitted her gaze upwards. Sadiq noticed her cheeks were a bit red. "I was wondering if you would like to go with me?"

Sadiq could not say he was expecting that. "Oh, uh…" He stopped speaking and brought his hand to his head, unsure how to respond. Though he would not admit it, probably not even to himself, he was not exactly the party type lately. He had not been to many at all. It wasn't that he didn't like them- after all, his dancing skills were enviable- he just… usually wasn't invited. Besides, he usually spent Saturdays with Heracles… provided Heracles decided to acknowledge his existence that particular weekend. Sadiq pursed his lips. Maybe it was about time for a change. "Sure. I could do that."

Katyusha's face lit up. Sadiq could not tell if she was surprised by, or genuinely happy about his response. Maybe it was both, though he could not fathom why. "Oh, alright, great! I very much look forward to it."

Sadiq managed a smile, even though his mind was still fixed on Heracles, his heart was in the same place, and his ego refused to acknowledge either. This party was the last thing on his mind. Still, he said, "I am too."

The bell rang then, and Sadiq got the strange feeling he was saved by it. Katyusha looked back at him, smiled, and gave his arm a light, brief squeeze before rushing away. Sadiq was confused by that, by all of this, but he did not dwell on it. Instead he set off in the other direction and hoped, perhaps unconsciously, that he would find Heracles.

He didn't.

.

While Sadiq had heard enough about Alfred Jones, from his colorful reputation to how popular the kid was, but he hardly expected him to live in a mansion, and he hardly expected him to know this many people. All around him were loud, riotous masses of humanity, all stumbling about in various levels of intoxication. A heavy bass line had been pounding in his ears since the second he got within a fifty-foot radius of the place. The first thing he saw when he walked in with Katyusha was the Danish kid swinging from the chandelier, and he was currently about five feet away from some albino guy doing a keg stand. In a way, he felt completely at home. In another, he felt completely lost.

Sadiq looked around, realized he knew none of these people, and wondered momentarily what he was doing with his life. The thought passed quickly, however, because Heracles had not spoken to him all day, Sadiq knew he was the last person to ever be here, and he figured he might as well have some fun in his absence.

Leaning against the wall in the hallway they were standing in, he turned to Katyusha and grinned. "Damn, this Alfred kid must know what he's doing."

Katyusha looked a mix between overwhelmed and excited, and when she looked up at Sadiq, she giggled. "I would think so. This happens nearly every weekend."

Every weekend… where had Sadiq been all this time? With Heracles, most likely. Attempting to get his attention, fighting over some stupid thing, taking him against the wall like his life depended on it and wishing he wouldn't act so bored…. Sadiq quickly pushed the images from his mind. "I should show up more often."

"Definitely." Katyusha seemed rater confident in her response. Then she looked away, turned, and waved in the other direction. Sadiq followed her gaze to see a short, blonde, smiling girl rushing towards them. She almost looked too young to be here. "Oh, hello Lilli!"

"Katya!" Lilli all but jumped on Katyusha in a spirited embrace. After a moment she stepped back, looked up, and regarded Sadiq with a slight tilt of the head. "I don't think I've met you before."

Sadiq gave a tiny nod. It would make sense that this girl would not know him, considering this was the first time he decided to grace these people with his presence at one of these things. "Sadiq."

Lilli's eyes widened at that, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Ooh," she hummed through her fingers. She glanced at Katyusha, giggled, and then turned her wide-eyed gaze back to Sadiq. "I've heard a lot about you."

Sadiq was unsure how to respond to that. He did not even know what it was supposed to mean. For a moment there was only silence between them, despite the thrumming music, loud laughter and raucous screaming filtering in from another room. Katyusha finally broke it with a short, suspiciously forced-sounding burst of laughter. "Lilli, I believe Natalia just arrived. Maybe you would like to say hello."

Just like that, Lilli seemed unconcerned with the both of them. Her face lit up, and she mumbled a disjointed goodbye Sadiq could not make out before disappearing into the other room. Katyusha looked back at Sadiq, half-smiling. "Sorry about that. Lilli can be a bit… excitable."

"Hey, I don't mind," said Sadiq honestly. Lately, his life had been nothing but a series of stagnant, interminable periods of _waiting- _for something to change, for something to get better, for something to happen. Finally, he was sick of it. There were only so many empty glances, long silences and flippant dismissals he could take. He could use some excitement.

The music he had previously been ignoring suddenly sounded far better, more energized, and Sadiq could not help but do a triumphant little spin on his heel. Coming here was something he would never be able to convince Heracles to do with him in a million years. Now he had the whole night ahead of him, and a beautiful girl to spend it with. He put his hand on the small of Katyusha's back and flashed his best grin. "Come on, let's walk around."

Another hour, a few drinks, and a rush of adrenaline later, Sadiq realized he had forgotten just how fun these things could be. There was something very refreshing about the loud swells of music and undulating crowd. Everyone seemed intent on making complete fools of themselves, without consideration or apology. He had seen Alfred once, when he was multitasking between mixing cups full of some hideous combination of different malt liquors and whatever he could find in the fridge, tossing them to whoever would take them, laughing freely, and trying to convince some perpetually angry looking guy with massive eyebrows to take a body shot off him. The albino from earlier was passed out on the stairs. Sadiq could not be sure if the person in the pink skirt dancing on the table was a guy or a girl, but they had garnered a rather large and appreciative audience.

Heracles would have been horrified. Sadiq had not felt this alive in months.

Eventually, he and Katyusha ended up on the pool deck. She had managed to find a group of her friends in the tightly packed crowd, and Sadiq was quite sure he had a firm hold on their attention. He raised the red cup of beer someone had handed him and continued the story he had been telling the past ten minutes. "So _then _I said," he nearly shouted over the music, only partially aware his words were slurred, "Screw you! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Wow," said one of the girls- Eliza, from what Sadiq had picked up. She raised an eyebrow and flicked a strand of her long brown hair over her shoulder. "You really said that to your history teacher?"

Sadiq hadn't, he had barely even thought it, but they didn't need to know that. He nodded and raised his cup in the air again. "Hell yeah I did!"

The boy next to Eliza chuckled. He was dressed in skinny jeans, a white button down, and a necktie that looked like it belonged on someone at least thirty years older. His dark, oiled hair must have taken an hour to style. The only thing he was drinking was water, and he winced each time the music spiked. Sadiq wondered why he was even here. "Oh, I'm sure," he muttered as he pushed up his thin wire frames. "Now tell me, Sadiq, how long have you known our dear Katyusha?"

Sadiq had to search his muddled mind for a response, since he could not seem to remember right now. It was probably a good thing that Katyusha answered for him. "We began speaking a couple weeks ago."

Lilli piped up then. "Really? That's all? You've been talking about him since-" She broke off with a tiny yelp when Natalia- a stone-faced, strangely quiet girl who was supposedly Katyusha's younger sister- nudged her with her elbow. "Never mind," she muttered around the edge of her cup.

Sadiq, again, was unsure how to respond. "Alright, then." No one said anything for far too long of a moment, and Sadiq was overcome by the urge to fill the silence. "_So_, as I was saying…"

"Oh, I love this song!" said Eliza loudly, interrupting. Sadiq didn't think the song had actually changed, not to mention it sounded exactly the same as the last dozen, but whatever. "Roddy, honey, lighten up and dance with me."

"Elizaveta, I hardly-" But 'Roddy' was not allowed to finish, because Eliza simply took him by the hand and dragged him into the large mass of dancing teenagers a few feet closer to the pool. Lilli shrugged, then followed suit with a flushed Natalia in tow.

And then there were two. Sadiq lifted his cup to his lips and took a long drink of beer, partially disappointed his audience had dispersed, partially unsure what he was supposed to do now. He took to scanning the area in search of a distraction- the Spanish guy perched atop the waterslide with a pink feather boa slung around his neck was pretty interesting to look at- but he felt a small tug on his sleeve before he got too focused on anything. Unsurprisingly it was Katyusha, and Sadiq smiled back at her. "Hey there. You having fun?"

"Yes, of course!" Katyusha glanced briefly behind herself, into the dense, gyrating pack of people mere inches from them. "Would you like to join the others?"

Sadiq actually surprised himself when he hesitated. Usually, he would never pass up an opportunity to show off his dancing. It was not that he was unconfident or unwilling. But he saw _how _they were dancing- pressed close together, hands roaming, little to no boundaries, and even through his alcohol-soaked mind he could only think of… Heracles. As if Sadiq was doing something wrong. As if he was making an already bad situation worse. As if he should listen to the quiet, persistent voice in his head telling him to take a step back.

But Sadiq was never very good at listening to quiet things. He downed the rest of his drink, threw the cup behind him, and said, "Sure, why not."

Sadiq had not been wrong. By the time a different loud, monotonous song was pounding through the speakers, exactly what he had expected to happen was happening- somewhere in the middle of the group Sadiq was holding Katyusha by the waist, her hands covering his, and their hips synced into a rhythm that was almost in time with the bass line vibrating through their feet. It… wasn't actually dancing at all, really, but it was what the others were doing; and if Sadiq was going to be honest with himself, it did end up being pretty fun.

This was only dancing. Sadiq told himself that same phrase many times; each and every time an intrusive thought of Heracles threatened to enter his mind. Sure, he would have ripped Heracles's head off if he willingly got this physically close to someone else, he likely would have assumed the worst… but it didn't matter. This was only dancing. He knew his own intentions. Sadiq's head was swimming pleasantly, his skin was warm, and if nothing else he was at least enjoying the rhythmic sway of things. It was innocent. He was not thinking about Katyusha or really anything at all. Between the music, the alcohol, and combined energy of everyone here, Sadiq was entirely too intoxicated to keep a single thought in his head.

That _was_ true, at least, up until the second Sadiq felt a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder and yank him backwards. It was strong enough to break him both from his daze and away from Katyusha. A bubble of shock quickly turned to anger, and Sadiq could only shout. "Hey, what in the hell is your-" He did not finish, however, for as he turned around he ran straight into what was probably a chest but felt more like a wall. Unwilling to back down, he looked to the person in front of him even if he had to crane his neck to do it.

The boy- or, judging by the size of him, man- was wearing a thick scarf despite the mild weather; a pair of striking violet eyes that seemed to bore right through him, and a tiny, almost artificial looking smile. "Hello." His soft voice somehow managed to carry above everything else; the accent similar to Katyusha's but thicker. "Who are you?"

Sadiq refused to acknowledge the way his blood had ran cold. He instead felt a burst of anger at this intrusion, his eyes narrowing into a hard glare. "I should be the one to be asking that. Who the hell are you?"

The boy brought his hand to his mouth and chuckled, light and airy. "I am Ivan." He lowered his hand, tilted his head, and met Sadiq's eyes without blinking. "Katyusha is my sister. And you are seeming a bit too close to her, friend."

Katyusha, having taken notice to this, was now facing the same direction as Sadiq. Her face had turned red. "Oh, Sadiq," she began. There was a smile on her lips, but it did not carry at all to her eyes. "This is Ivan, my _younger _brother." She annunciated the word carefully as if to call attention to it.

Ivan ignored this introduction. He had not moved his line of sight from Sadiq, his eyes almost vapid but holding something cold as ice behind them. "And what do you think you are doing with her?"

Sadiq almost wanted to apologize, almost wanted to back down, but he fought both equally powerful urges. For Christ's sakes, it was only dancing. He had told himself that a million times and he was not about to go back on it. "We're just having fun, alright? No need to get crazy about it."

At that, Ivan's smile fell so abruptly he looked almost like he was a different person than he was a second ago. Katyusha turned white, at least five people around them turned to stare incredulously, and Sadiq was left to wonder what the hell he had even said. Even if the music was still droning on at full volume, it was as if the world had screeched to a sudden, terrifying halt. Katyusha blinked away her slightly shell-shocked expression and spoke frantically. "Ivan, Sadiq is nice, I am sure he does not mean-"

Suddenly, Ivan's smile was back. That only thickened the tension hanging in the air. "There is thing called respect, Sadiq. I suggest you learn it."

Sadiq grappled for a response or even simply a reaction to that, but he did not have the time, because Ivan was lurching towards and his heavy hands were on his chest and Sadiq was toppling backwards and before he took so much as take a breath there was nothing to fill his lungs but water. It was a single moment that felt like a decade, and it took even longer to click. He was in the pool. Ivan had actually _pushed him _in the goddamn _pool. _By the time he treaded to the surface and took a sharp, gasping breath, Sadiq was not sure whether to laugh at the absurdity or scream in anger. But when he saw the reactions, all that was left was stunned silence.

It was not outright, it was not obnoxious, but it was enough. Sadiq could tell they were laughing. For a split second of insanity he nearly laughed with them, right before the realization hit like a swift punch to the gut- or, perhaps more fittingly, a splash of cold water. They were not laughing with him. They were laughing _at _him, and the more he thought about it, the clearer it became that this had been the case all night. His stories were falsified and uninteresting, his voice was too loud and his mannerisms set him too far apart. He was just now becoming aware of the joke everyone else was well aware of.

Sadiq fought the overwhelming urge to be sick as he scrambled from the water. His phone had fallen from his sweatshirt pocket and he was able to retrieve it from the ledge, thankfully, but that was just about the only thing going for him. His face burned with embarrassment, his eyes burned with chlorine, his feet burned with the urge to run in the other direction. He was nearly able to, before Katyusha fought through the crowd and grasped his dripping sleeve.

"Sadiq, I am so sorry! Ivan is very protective, I… oh, are you alright?"

Sadiq pulled away. Katyusha was kind, perhaps too kind, and this was not her fault. She was probably the only person here not mocking him. But Sadiq was tired of people, tired of everything. "Yeah, I'm fine. Give me a minute."

With that, Sadiq rushed off in search of someplace quiet, away from the noise and laughter and humiliation. He barely heard what Eliza said from behind him seconds before he disappeared into solitude.

"Roderich, why don't you go make sure Gilbert is still alive? I believe a little girl time is in order."

.

It should have been hard to find a secluded area in the mutiny that was this party, but somehow, the kitchen Elizaveta led Katyusha into was almost completely deserted. Natalia and Lilli were not far behind. Katyusha was torn between embarrassment, confusion, and the powerful urge to go find Sadiq. The past hour felt like an unreal dream that ended in a nightmare.

"So," said Elizaveta, leaning against the counter. "That was something."

Katyusha could not hold it back any longer. Face burning, she jerked her hands in front of herself and nearly shouted, "This is very embarrassing! I cannot _believe _Ivan actually pushed him!"

"I was about to," mumbled Natalia. Lilli giggled.

Katyusha's eyes widened. "Natalia! How awful!"

"Don't be too hard on her." Elizaveta glanced towards the floor and crossed her arms. After a moment she shrugged, as if resigned to something. "To be completely honest, I think most people here are thinking the same."

Despite the music pounding from others rooms, the space between the four of them grew silent and still. Katyusha glanced between her friends; confused, and noted they were suddenly avoiding her gaze. She shifted uncomfortably and broke the silence when it got to be too much. "I have feeling I am missing something, here."

"Oh, Katyusha." Elizaveta lifted her gaze and rested her hand on Katyusha's shoulder. "We're all just wondering… well, what you see in Sadiq, is all."

Katyusha froze. She wrung her hands together if only to have something to focus her eyes on, away from the questioning, borderline judgmental looks of the others. She saw a lot in Sadiq, almost too much to put into words. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the way he did everything without apology, maybe it was his sense of humor, maybe it was the wild laughter he followed it with… Katyusha was not sure. She shrugged, smiling gently to herself at the torrent of thoughts. "I just like him." When met with nothing but blank stares, she added, "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Well…" Lilli traced a circle in the floor with her foot as she spoke. "No, nothing is wrong, he just seems a little…"

"Obnoxious," Natalia deadpanned.

Elizaveta inclined her chin slightly, seemingly in agreement. "Rude."

"He seems a bit dense, to me." Lilli's eyes widened at her own words. "Sorry."

Katyusha did not want to admit it, but she would be lying if she said she did not understand where they were coming from. Realistically, Sadiq was all of those things. But he was also charming, and funny, and probably sweet when he wanted to be. "Maybe," she said finally. "I still think he is nice."

Natalia looked as though she was about to say something, but Elizaveta quickly stepped in. "And we're not trying to dismiss that, Katya." She smiled how she always did, warm and free of judgment, and Katyusha could not help but smile back. "I just thought you should know."

Katyusha cast her eyes downward. "Of course."

Natalia still looked uninterested, but she raised an eyebrow and spoke as if she was. "You still have not told us what your relationship with him is."

If only that question was as simple as it should be. Katyusha felt her face flush and looked away, feigning ignorance. "What do you mean?"

"You know full well what she means, dear." Eliza leant forward, eyes bright. "Are you two… friends? Dating?" A sly grin crossed her face as she raised an eyebrow. "Hooking up, perhaps?"

Katyusha gasped involuntarily. "Certainly not! Nothing like that!" Despite her embarrassment, she had to smile at her friend's absurdity. "Anyway, we are… friends, I believe. He has not made a, how you say, move."

"What you two were doing out there sure looked like a move…" Another quiet remark from Lilli, another widening of those innocent green eyes. She quickly turned her attention to the drink in her hand.

"It took Roderich roughly an ice age to make a move. I think you're fine there." Elizaveta nearly laughed as she said it, but her expression faded into one of serious realization just as quickly. "Wait, Katyusha… did you ask if he has a girlfriend?"

Lilli tilted her head. "I've never seen him with a girl."

Natalia nodded. "Hardly surprising."

Katyusha ignored her sister. "I did not ask, no." And she did not feel a need to. If Sadiq were seeing someone, surely he would have said something by now. Surely he would not have danced with her like he did or even come here with her in the first place. Surely. "But I am nearly certain he doesn't."

.

As Sadiq sat against the wall in the one vacant hallway he could find, the towel he had managed to procure from one of the bathrooms draped over his shoulders like a cape of shame and a red cup just barely dangling from his hand, he was only sure of two things. One, he had never felt quite this pathetic in his life. Two, he was very, very drunk.

Sadiq had never been a huge drinker. He had certainly done it before- at family gatherings, at the few other parties he had gone to, at home when he had nothing better to do- but never quite like this. Since he had gotten out of that damn pool and realized he was the butt of everyone's joke, he had been drinking whatever he could get his hands on, and it was not for fun or out of boredom. Sadiq drank to forget. But now, it was clear he had accomplished the opposite. Now, somewhere between fragmented embarrassing memories and black holes caused by the alcohol, Sadiq could only think of Heracles. Again.

Even though it was the last thing he would admit, Sadiq knew deep down that he had only come to this thing with Katyusha because he knew Heracles would be against it. He wanted to forget he existed, if only for awhile. But of course it did not work. After all the excitement, all the drinking and all the noise, he was still where Sadiq's stubborn mind fell. Katyusha was fun enough to be with, sure, with her sparkling eyes and lilting laughter and charming innocence. When she walked in the room, every man's head turned. But she was not Heracles. She did not have his quiet wisdom, Sadiq felt no frustrating spark in his chest when she brushed his hand… she just was not him. And right now, Sadiq was humiliated, he was tired, he was alone, and Heracles was all he wanted.

Sadiq fumbled for his phone, even though his hands felt boneless and the screen in front of him doubled. This was probably a bad idea. He couldn't have cared less. He was sick of the noise, and the quiet always rested with that damn Greek- that unreal, frustrating, breathtaking Greek.

.

Heracles had grown so accustomed to the silence that he actually jumped when his phone buzzed. What shocked him even more was the time brightly displayed on the screen… it was after midnight. Kiku had come over later in the evening to meet the new cat- who had since been named Hades, since his orange fur was reminiscent of flames- and just like always, Heracles had completely lost track of time in his all-encompassing presence. What must have been hours of written conversation felt like minutes.

With Kiku alternating between petting the two cats and flipping through muted television channels a few feet away, Heracles picked up the phone and read the message on the screen, his eyebrows drawn in confusion and a pang of annoyance in his chest. What could possibly be so important this late…

_Sadiq: Heraalces u stil awake _

_Sadiq: babe comeon _

_Sadiq: I mis you plese talkk t me_

For a long moment, Heracles simply stared at the screen, incomprehension replacing irritation. There was definitely something off about this. For one he could hardly decipher the messages, and the last time Sadiq had spoken to him in a way that could possibly be taken as affectionate… Heracles closed his eyes and took a slow breath as realization sunk in. This could not end well. After glancing to the side to see Kiku was still occupied, he typed: _Are you drunk right now, Sadiq? _

The response was near immediate, and in a succession of consecutive messages.

_Sadiq: what if i am _

_Sadiq: godamit hercc why dont u ever tlk to me_

_Sadiq: i miss talkin to u i just mis you_

_Sadiq: a lot_

Heracles fought the sudden and overwhelming urge to throw the phone across the room. Why, out of all possible times, did this have to happen now? It was not as if any of it was genuine or meaningful. He did not want to deal with this tonight, not when Kiku was next to him. Sweet, interesting, wonderful Kiku… Heracles let out a self-critical sigh. As he responded, he forced himself to focus on the problem at hand. _Where are you? _

As Heracles waited almost impatiently for a response, Kiku looked to him, his gaze oddly perceptive. Heracles felt a jolt of what was almost panic and spoke out of nothing but instinct. "Probably a wrong number." He regretted it before he even finished the sentence. Why was he lying, God, why was there a need to lie…

_Sadiq: that alfred kid had a party so i went wht of it_

Despite the lack of coherency is his writing; Heracles knew what Sadiq was talking about immediately. Alfred was known for his huge, overcrowded, horrifically loud parties, where liquor flowed like water and god knows what else went on. Heracles _used _to go, a couple years back… but he spent more time in spare bedrooms than anywhere else. Now he wanted absolutely no part in any of it. He would much rather be here in the quiet, perhaps alone with the cats, perhaps with…

Heracles was broken from his thoughts when Kiku slid his notebook across the space between them. His writing was neat, every word spelled correctly. _Is something wrong? _

"No," said Heracles immediately. "No, nothing is wrong, I just…" _need to make sure Sadiq doesn't get himself killed. _"I just need to figure something out." Well, at least that was not a lie. Heracles typed without looking at the phone. _How are you getting home? _He waited, his pulse racing and his mind hurried, all hidden behind what he hoped could be read as a neutral expression. All that was calm just minutes ago was suddenly fast, chaotic, like water swirling down the drain after the plug had been pulled. The message he eventually received only threw him further down the mad spiral.

_Sadiq: ill get there_

Heracles's stomach dropped, hard and fast. He suddenly felt ill, confused, overwhelmed… and strangely responsible. Then, it didn't matter how horrific their relationship was. Heracles was not about to let Sadiq get horribly hurt or worse as a result of something he could have prevented. After one quick glance over his shoulder, he typed a response with almost violent punches to the keys. _Stay exactly where you are. If you touch a car, I will end you. _

Heracles did not wait for a response, perhaps because he did not want one. He was torn between freezing in place and bolting into action, because while he was dreading the eventual outcome, he knew there was not choice. He ignored the guilt-laced reluctance forming a knot in his stomach as he tapped Kiku on the shoulder. Kiku looked up at him, deep brown eyes unreadable if not slightly tired, and Heracles ignored the unacceptable skip in his chest as well. He tried to sound casual. "Kiku, it has gotten quite late. Will your brother worry?"

Kiku paused, then shook his head and shrugged. Heracles was not surprised. Kiku had told him just an hour ago that Yao had no curfew for him, in fact he encouraged him being out of the house for long periods of time, as long as he was spending time with someone. The thought only made this harder. "I would love for you to stay, but there is something I have to do, I'm afraid." Again it was not a lie, but it sounded a lot better than the full, ugly truth- _I have to drag my drunken boyfriend home. _Heracles smiled gently to cover the torrent of nameless emotions threatening to burst through to the surface. "I will take you back, alright?"

Kiku nodded, and even though there was no hurt in his expression, Heracles felt on the border of physically sick.

After Heracles walked him home, it was almost terrifying how much it hurt to see him leave.

.

As Heracles stood in front of Alfred's monstrous house, music blaring in his ears and lights flashing in his eyes, he remembered why he no longer went to these things. By the time he got inside, he was wondering why anyone ever would. He tried to call Sadiq's phone to save time finding him, but of course he did not answer. Heracles could only hope he was not blacked out somewhere. He was not willing to even consider any other possibilities.

This house was the size of a small town, and sometime after the ten-minute mark of his search, Heracles's hope was falling and his frustrating, impossible to ignore worry was mounting. He tried to ask the few sober-looking attendants if they had seen Sadiq- including one tall, slightly intimidating boy in a scarf who laughed and walked away as soon as Heracles said his name- and received nothing helpful. He was actually getting to be angry when he ascended the stairs to the equally as packed, equally as loud second level. That was what he allowed himself to feel, at least. Why was he even dealing with this?

"Herc? Herc, Heracles, baby, there you are."

Heracles was not sure what surprised him more- just how slurred Sadiq's words were, or how docile his tone was. He sounded genuinely happy to see him. He was not sure how much he had to drink, but judging by the abrupt, almost disturbing one-eighty, it must have been far too much. Heracles lowered his gaze to see Sadiq sitting against the wall, eyes heavy lidded and smile loose.

"There you are." Heracles said it in a low, airy whisper, his entire body relaxing in what felt like an internal sigh of relief. He squared his shoulders and hardened his gaze as soon as he caught himself. "You are such an idiot."

Sadiq stood, stumbled, and immediately fell heavily onto Heracles in what could almost be a hug. Heracles wondered why his clothes were damp, but he was not about to ask. "Don't… don't be like that, I missed you."

Heracles rolled his eyes. Missed him, right. Maybe he missed yelling at him. "Okay. Let's just go. Give me your keys."

Surprisingly, Sadiq was completely complacent with him. He reached clumsily into his pocket for his keys, pressed them to Heracles's palm in far too touchy of a manner, and then slung his arm over his shoulders for balance. At this point, Heracles noticed he smelled like chlorine as well as beer and cigarette smoke. Again, he decided not to ask. He simply brought his hand to Sadiq's waist, prayed to any and every god to give him patience, and led him away from this loud, horrible mess.

It took entirely too long to reach Sadiq's car, and the entire way, his drunken chatter did not let up. Once he started speaking, it was as if a dam had burst. "These people are idiots, Herc, all of them, they're idiots," Sadiq slurred as he struggled to use his seatbelt. Heracles started the engine and pretended not to hear him. "You know what I miss? I miss when you used to bore me half to death with that thing you like, that smart people bullshit with all the dead guys. What was it, uh, phil, philso-"

"Philosophy," said Heracles under his breath, even if he was sure it was landing on deaf ears. "Which you always hated."

"I liked it when you talked about it, baby, you sounded so smart and shit." Sadiq smirked as he said it, but strangely enough, he did not sound as if he was joking or even as if he was unaware of his words. If anything he looked… reminiscent.

Heracles did not have the energy to think about that too much. Instead he concentrated on the empty, darkened streets, his eyes and mind trained on the road racing beneath them. He did not think- not about Kiku back in his own home, not about Sadiq beside him, not about the party raging in the distance or the silence that laid somewhere even further off. Thinking was too tiring right then. Thankfully, listening to Sadiq's mindless chatter did not take much of it.

That lasted until Heracles took Sadiq inside his house- which was, as usual, empty- and up to the bedroom he had spent far too many nights in. Heracles leaned against the doorframe as Sadiq spoke in a confused mumble, his wet clothes in a pile on the floor and a dry shirt halfway over his head. He attempted to do so through the fabric. "Heracles, you know, do you know…" He trailed off as he managed to finish changing, his hands pulling at the jumbled fabric as if he had never used them before. "You know… I love you, right?"

Heracles froze at the words. He could not even remember the last time he heard them. Two years, a million fights, and he could probably count the amount of times Sadiq had said it on one hand. Heracles could not say his number was any higher. After a moment that felt like a year, he could only manage, "Okay." As soon as the shock faded, it was replaced by intense, almost anger-inducing disbelief. In fact he almost laughed. Even if Sadiq did love him when he was drunk, it did not override hating him when he was sober. "Just go to bed. You need to sleep this off."

For a second so brief it could have easily been imagined, Sadiq frowned. But it snapped back into a dopey grin before Heracles could be sure he caught it, and Sadiq was again cooperative, pulling back the sheets on his bed- or at least trying to. Heracles sighed, stepped forward and did it for him. "Thanks babe," said Sadiq as he collapsed on the mattress. "Thanks."

"Yeah, sure." Heracles glanced towards the door, almost desperate to separate himself from this otherworldly, uncomfortable situation. He was not even certain how he got into it to begin with. He nearly succeeded in taking a step in that direction, but he had to stop when Sadiq grabbed his arm. His touch was loose, and for once, gentle. Heracles was no less than stunned by the change. He looked towards him again, eyebrow arched in question.

"Stay with me." Sadiq was perched on his elbow, eyes glassy and tired, his voice the same. He squeezed Heracles's wrist once. "It's been awhile."

Heracles's immediate assumption was this was just like every other time. Sadiq only seemed to keep him around for one reason, after all. "I'm not sleeping with you when you're drunk."

Sadiq almost laughed. "Come on, Jerkules. Not like that, just like… sleep. Sleep sleep."

"Oh," was all Heracles could say at first. This was definitely new, and considering Sadiq's personality, extraordinarily sentimental. He could not even be sure if it struck him as surreal or simply unnerving. Heracles considered just leaving, if only to escape the feelings of confliction. But he could not deny that when he looked down at Sadiq's tamed eyes and lopsided grin, he felt… something. Something deep within him and impossible to place, as well as impossible to ignore. Something as rare as this moment. Something that had kept him here these two years. Heracles responded before his head had a chance to catch up with his heart. "Alright."

Sadiq made a small, drunken sound somewhere between a strangled laugh and a sigh. "That's my boy."

As Heracles climbed into the too-familiar bed, breathed in the too-familiar scent of the sheets and grew accustomed to the too-familiar warmth beside him, he found himself wondering if things really were as awful as he thought. But almost as quickly as he thought it, he dismissed it. Sadiq was drunk. He was saying things he did not mean, doing things he would never do, and likely feeling things that did not exist in him when he was sober. This moment was about as genuine as the lies Heracles had unthinkingly told Kiku this very night.

But when Sadiq rolled over and placed a light, sloppy kiss on Heracles's ear and whispered, "Night, Herc," it was very hard to believe that.

Heracles closed his eyes- maybe out of exhaustion, maybe in an attempt to forget. "Goodnight, Sadiq."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

Sadiq woke to what felt like a spotlight in his face, a jackhammer behind his eyes, and a war in the pit of his stomach. In reality it was only the morning sun and a hangover, but it felt like a violent attack on each one of his senses. With a pained groan, Sadiq opened his eyes and squinted against the light.

The first thing he realized, with a nauseating jolt of panic, was that he did not know how he had actually gotten home. The second was that he was not alone. The soft laughter from beside him nearly gave Sadiq a heart attack, the feeling only intensifying when he was able to place it. He rolled over to see Heracles beside him, hand over his mouth, chuckling quietly to himself as he stared at his phone. He must have been texting someone. Sadiq blinked a few times, only because he did not trust his eyes. He could not remember the last time Heracles had been in his bed… for an entire night, anyway.

After putting two and two together, the third thing Sadiq realized was that Heracles must have taken him home. He did not know why or even how it happened, but somehow, it struck him as far more humiliating than if he had woken up on some poor bastard's lawn. Who knows what he had said, what he had done? He closed his eyes painfully, swallowed the lump in his throat and covered it all with a disgruntled tone. "Herc, what the hell are you doing here?" He asked as if he knew nothing, because he did not want to know everything.

Heracles nearly dropped his phone out of what looked to be shock. When he managed to get a grip on it again, he shoved it under the pillow as if it was contraband and immediately rolled onto his back. His eyes were tired as he looked to Sadiq. "Do you not remember anything?"

Out of all that was ailing him at that moment, his memory seemed to have taken the worst of the damage. Sadiq did not remember much of the party. A few details stuck out in his mind- Katyusha, the pool, the drinks- but the rest was a senseless blur muddled by his pounding headache. He probably didn't even want to remember. The more he thought about it, however, Sadiq did faintly remember Heracles's voice over the music, his hand firm and supportive on his waist, the slur in his own voice as he said the word _baby… _Sadiq found it much safer to simply shake his head. "Nothing. Must have been crazy."

Heracles grimaced, visibly remembering. Sadiq wondered how much he had seen. "A better word would be insufferable."

Even though Sadiq scoffed and said, "Lighten up," he could not help but be faintly surprised that Heracles had subjected himself to that at all… especially for Sadiq's benefit. He decided to ignore it. "How did you get in my damn bed, anyway? You know I sleep alone."

"You asked me to stay, Sadiq. Believe me, I would not have had a problem leaving." Heracles glanced briefly to the side before letting his gaze drift back the ceiling. Only then did Sadiq allow himself to look. Heracles's hair fell around his shoulders and on the pillow like a halo, a ray of the blinding sun cutting in through the window and highlighting the side of his face. His green eyes narrowed, darkened. "You must have really been drunk."

Sadiq could not logically deny that, not even to himself. But he could also not deny what he remembered, could not deny the images in his mind that managed to peak out through the dark spaces and holes, could not deny that knowing Heracles was next to him made him feel just a little less ill. He did not remember asking him to stay. Sadiq knew it was a result of intoxication, but that had more to do with inhibition rather than intention. Still, he said, "You got that right. I'm sober now, though. Get the hell out." He was not even sure why he said it. Perhaps it was instinct.

Heracles parted his lips as if to speak, but he closed them and shook his head. It was as if he lacked either the energy or the words to respond to that. He did not speak until he was sitting up, his back to Sadiq and his eyes on his phone, his voice quiet as a whisper but as cold as a snowstorm. "I should have just let you crash your car."

Sadiq was surprised by how harshly the words stung. They tightened the queasy knot in his stomach, creating the sudden, intense urge to be sick that thankfully did not reach the surface. All that ended up emerging from him was a curt, snappy response. "Maybe you should have, Heracles. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with you."

"I suppose I will keep that in mind." Heracles stood then, tugging on the pants he had left forgotten on the floor and stuffing his suddenly wildly important phone in his pocket. He left without so much as a goodbye.

Sadiq made no effort to change that- not until he was sure he was alone and Heracles was far out of earshot. "Bye," he muttered under his breath, perhaps for closure, perhaps to fill the sudden silence that for whatever reason felt uncomfortable.

A harsh shrieking shattered the silence. Sadiq clapped his hands over his ears and nearly screamed, his head throbbing, his patience thoroughly shot. Though it sounded far too shrill, he realized the sound was, in fact, his cell phone ringing, and there was no way to silence it save for clamoring off his bed and patting at the cluttered floor until he found it. He leaned back against his pillow and answered huffily, "Hello?"

"Oh, Sadiq, I was so worried!" exclaimed a feminine voice that Sadiq immediately recognized as Katyusha's. He pulled the phone away from his ear and winced at the volume alone. "I could not find you last night. Are you alright? Did you get home without problems?"

Sadiq realized then, through his nausea and fatigue and dejection, that he had not seen or spoken to Katyusha since Ivan had pushed him into that pool. He had been entirely too focused on drinking and forgetting to even think about how that would make her feel. It was moments like this that Sadiq almost believed that maybe, just maybe, he had been a bit inconsiderate. He spoke into the phone in a rush. "Oh, shit, sorry. Yeah, I'm fine. I got a ride."

Katyusha sighed on the other line. "Okay, wonderful. Did you have a pleasant time?"

It was becoming increasingly common for Sadiq to not know how to respond, and this was one of those times. He could not say last night had been terrible from the beginning- he had enjoyed the chance to socialize, to dance, to distract himself. The first hour or so of that party was the most alive he had felt in what seemed like ages. Every hour after that, however, felt like the last one he would ever make it through. Sadiq eventually settled on a throwaway response. "Yeah, of course." He settled further into the pillow, resting his clammy hand on his forehead. "Did you?"

There was a pause. Sadiq almost had to strain his ears to hear Katyusha laugh in a way that was closer to a sigh, then to hear her voice that was about the same volume. "Yes, Sadiq. Very much so."

Well, at least it had gone well for someone. Sadiq began a response. "That's good. I-" But the sentence did not end up being one he could finish. His words were halted by a horrid, gut twisting flip in his stomach, this time out of something that had nothing to do with his ridiculous emotions. He could barely mutter, "Hold on."

Sadiq dropped the phone, rushed to the bathroom, and almost immediately vomited. Tears stung his eyes as he did so, and he could not even be sure what they were from. Maybe it was only his eyes watering. Maybe it was out of shame. Maybe it was because he knew, somewhere in the back of his weary, jumbled mind, that if he had not listened so unthinkingly to his instincts Heracles could still be here. But maybe there was no reason at all.

The wave of sickness passed, and Sadiq rested his head carefully, reluctantly against the lid. Tired, confused, and sick in more ways than one, he closed his eyes… and saw only Heracles.

Sadiq knew he could not keep doing this.

.

The following Monday was the exact opposite of weekend that preceded it. It was normal, it was unexciting, and Heracles got through it easily. Perhaps that was due to how quiet it was. Nothing seemed to make much noise- not his peers, not his mind… not even Sadiq. He, in fact, was so quiet Heracles was just shy of disturbed by it. In the morning, he did not approach Heracles with meaningless chatter and laughter. In afternoon he did not see him at all, not until classes were over and Sadiq was sitting beside him during their free period, eyes cast downward and seemingly uninterested in conversation. Heracles could not decided if he was relieved or unsettled by it.

That decision was made for him fairly quickly. Heracles's phone buzzed in his pocket, shattering the unfamiliar dead air, serving almost as a relief. Sadiq did not even flinch. Grateful for the distraction, Heracles withdrew it and read the message on the screen. Then he was no longer grateful. Slight unnerve turned to a powerful jolt of sudden, stunning fear.

_Harpocrates: Heracles please help I need hel p _

Heracles must have read the words ten times. They were strange, too strange. They sent a pained, anxious jolt down his chest and through his entire body, one that he could not place or stop or explain. If Kiku needed help, he would provide it. No question. But what could have happened? The first thing he thought of were Sadiq's messages just a couple nights prior, how they were equally as disjointed and nonsensical, but he knew this could not stem from the same cause. Kiku was so composed, so sensible. There was no way he would be drinking. His rapid typing might have been out of curiosity, but something closer to panic lurked behind it. It crept closer to the surface with each letter. _Where are you? _

_Harpocrates: side of building by steps please help please_

Heracles knew then, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that there was something very, very wrong. Then it dawned on him. Something- or someone- was hurting Kiku.

The very thought got him on his feet before he could feel his legs. "I have to go," he said to Sadiq, his words almost too quick to decipher. There was no time to explain, no time to think. "Right now."

Sadiq barely looked up. His blank expression did not change, and he did not move his eyes from the far away, invisible spot in the distance he seemed to be staring at. Then he shrugged, mumbling an indifferent, "Then go."

Heracles could not remember the last time he ran so quickly.

.

Hands around his neck. A knife in his ribs. Sharp, splintering glass slicing his skin. Punches to his stomach, his chest, his throat, taking his air and pounding, unrelenting, into his veins and mind. Rocks filled his stomach and lungs; fire burned beneath his feet. Kiku was surrounded – by memories, by himself. But in reality there was no one. He was alone, the brick wall pressed against his shoulder, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to bring himself away from the past and back to the safety of the present. But he couldn't. He never, ever could.

Not until he heard his voice.

"Kiku?"

Kiku managed to open his burning eyes. Heracles was speaking, and he was _running, _faster and more hysterically than Kiku had ever seen him move or heard him talk. The movement and the noise dizzied him, the entire world a spiraling mess. At first he thought he was seeing things. He vaguely remembered sending the messages, but surely Heracles would not have gotten here so quickly, would not have cared at all, surely…

A hand touching his shoulder, nothing like a punch. "I got here as quickly as I could manage. Are you hurt?"

Kiku was not sure how long it took him to look up. He was not sure how long it took him to see Heracles was before him, to believe it, to clear his blurring vision and realize the stormy green eyes staring down at him. If only slightly, his pulse slowed… but it sped up for an entirely different reason. When he realized he had not yet responded, he simply shook his head. He was not physically hurt. It was all he could do.

"Oh, good. That's wonderful." Heracles let out a slow breath, his shoulders loosening, but the tension on his face switched to confusion right after. Kiku could not really blame him. He could not blame him for the question he asked, either. "What happened, then?" Heracles paused, looked away, and patted awkwardly at his pockets. "Oh, um, I'm not sure if I have any paper…"

Then Kiku was not sure what to do. He could not explain, not even if he could speak, because this moment was one of hundreds that had little cause and every consequence. The words needed to justify himself did not exist. What did happened had not been apocalyptic; it had not even been a big deal. Someone asking for directions should not have caused this. But they had been loud, and they would not stop asking, and they did not understand, and when they had grabbed Kiku's arm it had got him remembering remembering remembering and once it started it didn't stop and… Kiku closed his eyes as if to block it out, then took his first real breath in what felt like hours even if it hurt. It was over. Heracles was here, and that calmed him down far more than it probably should have.

"Actually, never mind. That was too intrusive," said Heracles mere seconds after Kiku got a grip on himself. There was silence for a moment after, a silence that was comfortable rather than terror inducing, even if Kiku could still feel the aftershock trembling his hands and hear his slowing heartbeat in his ears. The clouds in his mind were beginning to disperse.

Kiku had been looking down to remind himself the ground was still beneath his feet, but once he was able to look up, he saw Heracles was holding a phone before him. The screen housed a picture of two cats. Kiku met his eyes, confused, and Heracles shrugged sheepishly. "I took this picture yesterday. I thought it might make you feel better."

It did, but Kiku knew that had less to do with the cats in the photo and everything to do with the fact that Heracles was the one showing him, that he looked flushed and unsure, that out of all things this was what he went to. Heracles was genuinely trying to help, and this was the only way he knew how. Kiku could not help himself – he flicked his gaze to the side, covered his mouth, and laughed. He could not even remember the last time he had. It was not so much out of amusement as much as it was out of happiness, of tension and panic finally breaking. Heracles was too unique, honest, and kind for Kiku not to. Laughing felt like that first breath after nearly drowning.

Heracles, however, seemed to have stopped breathing. "Wait, Kiku." His eyes were wide, unblinking, and his face had gone white. "You can laugh?"

Kiku stopped laughing. It was not unreasonable thing to ask, but it was yet another question he had no way of answering. Answering would mean explaining, remembering, _reliving, _telling a story a story he did not even want to admit existed, and all of it required words he simply could not find. A small jolt of fear crept up his spine, but Kiku ignored it and nodded. He hoped it would be enough.

But of course, it was not. "Oh, well, does that mean…" Heracles paused as if to search for words, and Kiku froze because he did not have any. "Nothing is wrong with your voice, then? Physically, I mean?"

Kiku took a careful, unconscious step backwards and steadied himself against the wall. Even though his gut screamed for him not to, he nodded, because it was true: His vocal cords were not physically broken. But there was so much of him that was. And right now all he could was try to keep those parts of him from showing through – even if his front was dissolving with every word Heracles spoke.

"Really?" Heracles raised his eyebrows, perhaps out of surprise, perhaps out of… curiosity. Kiku's stomach turned as he nodded once more. "Wow, I cannot say I was expecting that. Do you simply choose not to talk?"

This time Kiku shook his head, fast and vehement, his eyes wide and his pulse suddenly fast again. No, none of this was a choice. No one would choose this. He had half a mind to run, to escape from the one person he had almost grown to be comfortable with, even trust, because the questions kept coming and oh god he could not answer them he couldn't…

"Okay. I didn't think that was the case."

Kiku felt the vice on his lungs loosen, then the air come rushing back in. Heracles understood. Never, not once in the years he had been this way, had someone understood. Kiku wished he could say thank you. He wanted to shout it, scream it from rooftops, say it over and over again until the words were a jumble of sounds and Heracles understood how monumental this was. At the very least he wished he had something to write with. His eyes drifted lower, and he saw Heracles's hand lying loose, unoccupied, against his side. Kiku stared for a long, silent moment until he realized why he was doing it. He wanted to reach out take it. If only to say thank you in a way he could, Kiku reached forward, fingers trembling. He had not wanted to touch someone since…

Heracles did not even notice. "I suppose the reason is psychological, then?" He lifted his hand expressively as he spoke, out of Kiku's reach. Kiku curled his hand into a fist and pressed it to the side of his leg. As he looked down, he saw the ground darken… a cloud must have passed over the sun. "You know, Kiku, you do not have to be self-conscious around me." He paused, and Kiku felt his blood run cold as the wind blowing around him. He knew what was coming but his shot nerves were denying, denying… "Why don't you try to say something? Anything. It could just be 'hello.'"

The words sounded innocent, but they unearthed many others that were far from it. Kiku tried to hold it back, tried tell himself he was safe, but before he could stop it, his stomach dropped, his world spun, and he remembered. Remembered how they had laughed, yelled, _demanded _that he speak when he couldn't, he couldn't, and they were the very reason why that was true. Remembered being held down, kicked… Kiku closed his eyes and pressed his hands to the bricks. He told himself it was over but deep down he knew it never would be. He would never forget, never heal, his chest was heaving, he was being shoved, nothing was real. Everything hurt. Hurt like it did when…

"Only if you would like to."

Heracles said it quietly but all Kiku heard was yelling. He did not realize how had he had been pushing his hands against the wall until it hurt to pull them away, hurt to raise them to his pounding ears. He could still hear it. All of it. _Are you stupid or something? Answer me, you pathetic…_

"Maybe I should not have asked that. Is something wrong, Kiku?"

The question had no answer, just like each of the previous. Kiku was tired of questions. He was tired of this constant panic, tired of breathing, tired of himself. He was tired, tired, tired, his lungs hurt, he wanted to burst from his body. He even wanted Heracles to go away. And he had never, ever thought that before.

That did not keep him from speaking.

"Are you breathing? You're not breathing. Kiku, please, I…"

The words barely registered, and in mere seconds, they dissolved into something Kiku could not hear or understand. Only one thing registered. When it did, all that was already spiraling out of control reached a breaking point Kiku did not know existed, and it exploded, destroying all remaining bits of sanity in its wake. Heracles was touching him. Hands on his shoulders, words hitting his ears, memories attacking his mind, and it was too much too much too much…

"I'm so sorry."

Heracles tried to hug him.

Kiku could not remember the last time he ran so quickly.

He ran until Heracles was far away, until the school was far away, until the trees and streets were blurs that felt very far away, too. But Kiku could not run from himself. Everything else was still very close. What was supposed to fall silent only grew louder; what was supposed to slow down only grew faster. By the time he reached his home, his bedroom, everything was fast and screaming.

Kiku could still hear their words. He could hear them like they were right next to him. And he could still feel their feet in his ribs, their fists on his face. But mostly he felt the blood. Kiku swore it was _still _running down his face, he could feel it, it was there, and it needed to come off. Now. So he scratched. He clawed at his face as if the memory was removable, as if it would solve anything, and soon there really was blood on his hands and it was on his face and oh god it needed to come off get off get off right now…

"I'm home, Kiku! Are you upstairs?"

Yao. Yao was safe, and familiar, and he was coming up the steps, and Kiku was still scratching, dissolving, remembering… "Oh my god. Oh my god, Kiku, what in the _hell _are you doing?!"

And then Yao had his hands. And Kiku could not longer try, even unsuccessfully, to erase the memories. He was forever trapped in their hold. Yao was speaking but he did not hear it. All Kiku heard were words spoken ages ago, in a variety of voices and volumes, ringing in his ears over and over again, louder than they usually were. But they quieted as Yao pulled him to his chest, as he spoke slowly and quietly the way he had learned to. The longer he did, the more the grip on Kiku's hands felt real, the less the blood on his face felt the same. It must have taken hours. It could have taken minutes. But eventually, Kiku found it in him to claw his way out of the pit he had fallen into. Eventually he was able to breathe.

Eventually, Yao's voice came in clearly. "I won't ask what caused this," he said in a whisper, as if Kiku was glass that could shatter through words or volume alone. "But I know what you're thinking about, and I know it's over. I will not allow anything to happen to you." A long, pained sigh, then an even quieter whisper. "Not again."

Kiku was not sure if he believed him. He nodded anyway.

Yao must have felt a need to repeat himself. Kiku probably needed him to. "You're alright." His voice quivered slightly, just enough for Kiku to doubt him. But he could not afford doubt right now. "You are safe."

Kiku nodded again. His forced his hand to tense on Yao's, forced the air back into his lungs, and forced himself to believe the words.

And then it was over. What had happened would never truly be over, but right now, he could at least pretend it was. Then, as always, Kiku felt exhausted… and a bit ridiculous. This had stemmed from nothing. There was no way he could explain this… especially not to Heracles. Realization hit, panic faded into something dark and hopeless, and he could do nothing else but cling to his brother. In that moment, Yao was all he had. And he had no idea how long that moment would last.

Kiku knew he could not keep doing this.

.

Heracles knew, somewhere beneath his shock, guilt, and rapidly rising self-loathing, that he would have to move eventually. He knew he could not stay by the side of this building forever, even if he would honestly like to. He knew that no matter how many times he ran over the last ten minutes in his head, no matter how much he regretted nearly every second of it, it would not change anything. But that did not stop the broken record in his mind. That did not stop the red-hot, searing regret from tearing into him and rooting him to the spot.

It was obvious he had done something very, very wrong, but whatever that was could not be placed. Perhaps his request had been insensitive, it had undoubtedly been a bad idea to ask, but none seemed bad enough to cause… whatever had happened. Heracles was still not sure what happened. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was somehow, whether it was through words or something else entirely, that Kiku was now alone, he had looked so scared, and he deserved none of it. His shaking hands, his gasps for air, the pure, unbridled terror in his eyes… God, Kiku deserved _none _of it. Heracles wished he could run away from himself the way Kiku ran from him.

A cold, loud gust of wind tore through the silence, and Heracles decided he could damn well try. He could not take the quiet right now. And there was only one place loud enough to forcibly drive his thoughts away, loud enough to shatter his resolve and make him forget. There was only one place Heracles hated more than himself. As a sickening, painful jab of guilt sunk into his stomach and brought tears to his eyes, Heracles walked into the cold, overcast afternoon.

The walk was both tortuously long and far too short. Heracles's hand shook as he pounded on the door, and that had nothing to do with the cold. At the thought that it would be a good idea to turn back, he only knocked harder. He hoped the sound would drive out the rest in his head. But the thoughts and regrets were only getting louder, louder, his heartbeat shook his lungs, and at some point he could not even tell if he was still knocking. Certain things were impossible to drown out. When the door finally opened, he barely noticed.

"Heracles?" Sadiq's voice was just slightly slurred. Three in the afternoon and he had probably been drinking already. "What the hell are you-"

But none of that mattered. Kiku was hurt, Heracles had hurt him, he needed desperately to get out of his head and damn all the rest. "Shut up." Heracles took Sadiq by the collar, yanked him forward, and ignored the lingering taste of alcohol on his mouth.

It was rough. It was impersonal. It did not even end up working. Heracles could not forget what he had managed to destroy, not even with Sadiq's hands on his hips or his tongue on his neck. By the end of it Heracles had a bite mark on his shoulder, a bruise on his throat, and heavy, incurable ache in his chest that worsened with every heavy breath. Sadiq was beside him, his clammy hand was on his arm, and Heracles could still only think of Kiku. If anything, this had only made him feel worse.

Heracles was not sure what scared him more- that he had messed up so badly, or that this no longer worked.

Heracles knew he could not keep doing this.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

A few weeks ago, Heracles never could have guessed a single day could possibly feel this long. He also never would have guessed that there were different kinds of silence. There was Kiku's silence- comfortable, introspective, and strangely alluring. It was something he never wanted to get out of. There was Sadiq's silence- rare, strange, and insidious. It was something he wanted to get out of as soon as possible. Then, there was the kind of silence he was facing right now, when Heracles was alone and confused and had no idea what to do next- heavy, deafening, and filled with a quiet sadness. It was something he was not sure how to get out of.

Once a full day had passed since Heracles last saw Kiku, since he had run away from him like his very presence was suffocating him, he decided it was something he had had quite enough of.

But the silence was only internal, and everything around him was loud. As Heracles walked through the crowded, noisy hall, he was followed by a strange sense of déjà-vu. He felt as though – even if he walked this same way daily – something was bound to happen, because it had before. It was a strange, tingling sense of knowing, as if someone was watching him. That was why what he saw did not surprise him. It sent his chest fluttering and his pulse skyrocketing, but it did not surprise him.

Kiku was standing by a set of lockers, the same spot he was when Heracles met him the first time. He looked lost this time, too, but now it looked as though that had nothing to do with direction. His eyes were cast downward, and in his hand was a folded, crumpled sheet of paper that he clutched like it was a part of him. Heracles froze in the middle of all the movement. In a way, he knew this was not coincidental. He was almost completely certain Kiku was there for a reason, that paper had a purpose, and maybe, just maybe, that meant he did not despise him. Heracles almost felt a twinge of relief, but hesitance and nerves overshadowed it. If only out of cowardice, he nearly continued on. But more than anything, he knew the longer he stayed away, the harder this would get.

And Heracles knew he could not stay away from Kiku for long.

After a long, cleansing breath, Heracles summoned a resolve he did not know he was capable of with all the energy he had left, turned, and walked towards him. Even as he stood a mere foot from him, Kiku did not look up or even flinch. Heracles spoke through his steadily rising fear even if he had not thought about his words. "Kiku, I would like to apologize." That was all he was sure of. The rest ended up as series of awkward beginnings. "I suppose I only thought… I don't exactly know…"

But he was not allowed to finish his thought – probably a good thing, because he was not sure if he even had one to finish – because Kiku simply shoved the piece of paper into his idle hand. That was when Heracles noticed it actually was not one sheet, but several stacked together. It felt like holding a bomb. Confused and slightly panicked, Heracles attempted to catch Kiku's gaze. He managed to, but the second their eyes met and his stomach flipped, Kiku broke it and scurried off. It was not until he was nowhere to be seen that Heracles read the words printed on the top of the first folded page.

_Heracles- if it is not too much trouble, please read this by the end of the day. I apologize in advance. I just thought you should know a few things. I will see you later. _

_–__Kiku_

The note was all business, but what Heracles felt as he read it was nearly indescribable. It was an odd mix of anticipatory anxiety, and a sudden, all-consuming rush of relief so powerful it startled him. He was not even sure what caused it. All he knew was that Kiku most likely did not hate him, yet it took a weight the size of this building off his shoulders. The past day he had felt heavy, almost despaired, and with a few simple words he felt light enough to fly. Suddenly things were okay. Maybe what made that so was that last sentence: _I will see you later… _Heracles ran his thumb absently over the letters as his blood thrummed with something close to excitement. A slight smile traced his lips despite the ambiguity of it all. Never in his life had the simple promise of seeing someone caused things to be so remarkably, beautifully _okay_.

But with the excitement came the nerves again. A moment passed, a lifetime passed, and Heracles realized there had to be much, much more to this bunch of paper than the note on top of it. It felt like opening Pandora's box… he doubted the content of this would be pleasant, but that was all he knew. He had no idea what to expect. Then again, Heracles had not expected to walk a blaring hallway and meet a kind-hearted, breathtaking, unfathomable boy who said more to him with his silence than anyone ever had with words, either, and that was something he would not take back for the world. If he had to deal with a little mystery and a little discomfort, so be it.

Heracles tightened his grip on the letter and went in search of a quiet place.

.

Pandora's box was open now, and as the myth went, what had started as innocent ended in catastrophe.

Heracles's hands shook as he flipped the first page back to the top, back to that simple, harmless little note that now seemed almost frighteningly casual. He stared at it for far too long- perhaps out of refusal or inability to understand, perhaps wondering how Kiku was still here to write it. He was not sure what he had expected. In fact he had not really expected anything, since he had made a conscious effort not to assume, but whatever he had unconsciously thought, whatever he had allowed himself to believe… it was not this. Never, not in a million years, would he have expected this.

In the pages- four, Heracles had counted- was the majority of Kiku's life story, condensed into what seemed like the worst of the details. At least Heracles hoped this was the worst of it. If it had been sugarcoated, he almost didn't want to know. But none of it seemed that way. All of it seemed raw, honest, and it was clear to see through the trembling of the letters and the crumple in the paper.

Kiku had started from the year he moved to this country from Japan after his grandfather passed, when he was thirteen and spoke not a word of English. It turned out Yao was actually his half-brother, lived in America the majority of his life, and had tried, rather miserably, to teach him the language. Kiku had a terrible time grasping it. And others had noticed immediately.

Heracles could barely stomach the list of insults and slurs. He could not bring himself to imagine Kiku try, in the undoubtedly beautiful, irreplaceable voice he now knew had existed just years before, to attempt a language he barely knew only to be drowned out and belittled. He could not stand to think the cruelty of a few had taken that voice away. But compared to the rest of the letter, that seemed tame. The part that made him sick and dizzy and unfamiliarly, dangerously angry was when Kiku wrote about speaking less, and the less he spoke the worse it got, and then came the yelling and with the yelling came the fists and eventually they had beat the words so far into Kiku that he lost the will, eventually the ability to ever get them back and… Heracles loosened his iron grip and remembered how to breathe.

He had to skim over some of the details, if only for his own selfish sanity, but a few words stuck out and rang out like screams in his ears: blood, concussion, broken bones, panic, post traumatic stress… those burned into Heracles's retinas. Those left permanent imprints on his very heart.

At least now, Heracles understood. He understood why Kiku had appeared from nowhere, because for him, it had been much more of an escape than it had been a simple transfer. He understood why Kiku reacted to a touch the way most would to the blade of a knife. He understood the distrust in his eyes, the defense in his stance. He understood why the request that he speak was the worst, most memory-triggering thing he could have asked, why he could not breathe, why he ran away… Heracles understood perfectly well that he had messed up almost unforgivably. The only thing he did not understand is why Kiku still went back to him. He did not understand why he trusted him with this letter.

Heracles did understand, however, that he had to get to him.

On his way out the door after the final bell, Heracles saw Sadiq. Sadiq was not quiet then. He had tried to stop him, tried to ask what the huge rush was, even tried to take the paper in his hands, but Heracles pushed him away with a noncommittal comment – some nonsense about 'my cousin sent me a letter I'm late to something see you later'– and turn of the shoulder. Hopefully he believed him. Heracles did not really care.

Really, he barely even heard him over all the noise in his head.

.

By the time Heracles got outside, the clouds hung oppressively low in the dark, humid sky. A sudden gust of icy wind blew through the trees and whipped his hair around his shoulders as he glanced to either side. The sudden onslaught of this weather seemed almost like an intentional backdrop, no matter how inane that idea was. But Heracles paid no attention to it. His eyes were searching, his pulse was racing, and he hadn't the energy to think about anything else.

Heracles was drawn out of himself by a tentative touch to his forearm. He turned, heart in his throat, to see Kiku standing before him. His black hair blew in wisps around his face, framing his warm eyes and flushed cheeks. Heracles felt a chill down his spine, and was suddenly very aware that he had no idea what to do or say. He wanted to ask a million questions. He wanted to apologize a thousand times. He wanted to say nothing, reach out and hold Kiku until time stopped and all of what he had written was too far back in the past to remember.

But none of those were viable options, and eventually Heracles managed a small, useless response. "Oh, hello," he said as if he had not expected to find him out him, as if he had not been looking for him like a shipwrecked man for land. He cleared his throat and tried to suppress his nerves. "I read your letter." As if convinced Kiku would not believe this to be true, he lifted the paper in the air and gave it a little wave.

Kiku only stared back at him as another gust of wind tore through the air, as a warning crack of thunder sounded from somewhere in the distance. He appeared to be waiting for something… a response, a reaction. Heracles was not entirely certain that he had one. But the dark, humid silence only stretched on, and eventually he resigned to the fact that he had to come up with something. And by God, after all that had happened, he owed Kiku that much.

Heracles swallowed thickly and looked down at his feet, where the beginnings of raindrops had begun to speckle the concrete. He counted the spots, brought much needed air into his lungs, and closed his eyes as he spoke. "Kiku, I am so sorry." Even before he said it, he knew it was too hollow, too common a response, but it was all he could think to say. There was not a word in existence that could erase the completely undeserved horrors Kiku had gone through. But he continued to scramble for those nonexistent words anyway, desperate and overwhelmed. "I had no idea. What was done to you… it was atrocious. And inhumane. And I am so, so sorry it happened to you."

Silence remained, not that anything different had been expected. The rain picked up just enough to be noticed and felt. Heracles continued to count the drops, either unable or unwilling to glance up and see if Kiku's expression had changed. "But thank you for telling me. It was a courageous thing to do, and…" Heracles trailed off when he felt that same light touch on his arm again. When he realized Kiku was not pulling back this time, he finally looked up. Kiku's eyes were glassy, which nearly panicked him, but the faint, relieved smile barely gracing his lips wiped any unpleasant feeling away. Heracles could not tell if he was relieved, concerned, confused, or some ludicrous, ever-confusing mix of the three. That mix was getting to be common. He could only ask, "Kiku? Is everything alright?"

A flush of the cheeks, a broken glance, a tiny nod. For a moment Kiku looked as though he forgot how movement worked. Heracles wondered if he had said something wrong again, but Kiku's hand on his forearm was making thinking very difficult. Everything froze still for a cold second, the wind blew again, and Kiku finally took a purposeful, barrier-breaking step forward and brought his arms loosely behind Heracles's back as if the breeze had pushed him there. It took a few seconds for him to allow his head to rest on his chest.

"Oh," said Heracles in what was almost a strained gasp. The shock alone knocked the air clean from his lungs. Kiku had always reacted so negatively and severely to being touched, had always kept a defensive distance, and now… Heracles got the immediate and dizzying feeling that this was a very big deal. Somewhere behind that, he knew it could very well be rare- or perhaps a one time occurrence. So, Heracles pushed his unnecessary worries and wonders to the back of his mind, lowered his chin to rest on Kiku's head, and pulled him close.

This silence was golden, it was precious, yet Heracles still felt a strange need to break it. "I apologize for what I asked yesterday," he said. Kiku's hand tensed on the back of his shirt. "I will never say that to you again." He paused as another rumble of thunder sounded, this one sounding closer than the last. Heracles ignored the quickening rain dampening his shoulders, swallowed his hesitance, and said what he probably shouldn't. "I don't mind if you never say anything for the rest of your life. You are perfect the way you are."

No response. Only a deliberate tightening in Kiku's grip. Heracles was dizzied by it, his mind a blur, his heart like the thunder in the distance.

As if the very words ignited it, a swift, blinding strike of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by an increase in the rain that took it from a drizzle to a downpour. Kiku pulled away then, too slowly to be out of shock, and Heracles was taken aback by how incomplete he suddenly felt. Never in his life had physical contact felt so awkward yet so natural, so strange yet so necessary, and left such an ache in his chest. This was something completely different from how he felt when Sadiq was on top of him the night before. And the change was definitely welcome.

With that realization came another. Heracles's eyes widened as Kiku stared at him, neither of them moving and rain running down both their faces. "The cats are in the backyard." At that, Kiku seemed to forget whatever remnants of embarrassment he had been harboring. His expression went blank with alarm. Heracles only said, "We should hurry."

Heracles grabbed Kiku's hand unthinkingly before tearing off in a run. Kiku held on tight and matched his pace immediately.

.

The look of surprise on Kiku's face was priceless, especially when it faded into pure joy.

Heracles really did not intend for this to happen. He was not even sure how it happened, whether it was due to the food he consistently left outside, a pack mentality, or pure luck. That was not to say he was at all upset about it. It was impossible to be upset with seven stray cats in his possession, after all. Especially when Kiku looked like a child on Christmas.

"I'm not sure where they keep coming from." Heracles shrugged as he dropped a pile of towels on the floor. "They just kind of… show up, I suppose."

Kiku did not even nod in response, seemingly uninterested or unconcerned with the reasoning behind this, and sunk to his knees. He picked up one of the towels, and one of the cats- a white one with one black paw; Achilles- immediately scampered into his hold. Heracles did the same with Dionysus a few feet away.

The two worked side by side in silence, drying cats, stealing glances, Heracles volleying between wondering if he should smile or say something and wondering why he was worrying about it at all. However, he could not help but worry. Words ran amuck in his head, none of which he could string into coherent thoughts, all of which he felt some obligation to say. Kiku had told him so much. If only out of decency, he had to say _something. _

So he did. "So, Kiku," he said without any real direction or purpose. Kiku turned his attention from the cat to look at him, and that made this impossible task even harder. Heracles look a sudden, unbreakable interest in the towel before him that he hoped did not appear as feigned as it was. "You told me quite a bit about yourself in your letter. I was thinking, perhaps I should… reciprocate, if you are willing to hear." He was not sure what he was doing. He was not sure he wanted to know, either.

Kiku forgot about the cat in his lap. His entire body twisted in Heracles's direction, his unsure gaze turned a firm one, and he nodded. There was no going back now. Heracles was torn, unsure if he should be nervous about opening the can of worms he was about to get into, or stunned and strangely flattered that Kiku seemed interested. He settled on the latter, if only for the sake of gathering courage.

One thing had been nagging at him. That had been the middle of Kiku's letter, where he had explained the beginnings of the less severe, non-violent teasing he had endured. It had been over the silliest of things –Kiku's lack of knowledge about American culture on top of the language gap, his interest in the cartoon shows on the posters in his room, his constant drawing… Heracles found all of it adorable. The others had not. And that hit a bit too close to home.

"You mentioned having problems in school, right? For being… different?" he asked finally. Kiku nodded slowly, his eyes cast down, and Heracles decided to jump in headfirst even if he didn't know if the pool held water. "I had a similar problem in middle school. Nothing compared to what happened to you, but… regardless."

Heracles nearly went on, but stopped when Kiku held out a hand. He was looking around, scrambling, his eyes darting around the room and his hands patting his pockets… Heracles realized he must have been looking for paper. He was trying to do what he perceived to be the polite thing, which was to respond. Heracles took a breath and smiled. It was just like him. "You do not have to say anything. Just having you listen is more than I could ask for."

Kiku looked hesitant, but he stopped fidgeting and nodded. His attention locked back on Heracles just as quickly.

The silent tension grew to be intolerable. "I was never exactly popular. Or well liked, really." Heracles felt his face flush and his hands tremble ever so slightly. Never did he think he would be delving back into this unfortunate, honestly embarrassing period in his life. Sadiq did not even know. But because it was Kiku, because they had gone through what seemed like a lifetime's worth of trials and tribulations in just a few weeks, he almost felt okay about it. He felt Aphrodite brush up on his leg and immediately pulled her into his lap before continuing.

"You could say I was a bit of a weird kid. Maybe it was how I dressed, or acted, or… I thought it was a cool American thing when I first came here, I…" Heracles trailed off awkwardly. The disjointed words felt stuck in his throat, and he was nearly ready to apologize for something he had not yet said. There was so much to say and nearly all of it embarrassed him. Maybe he shouldn't…

Heracles had withdrawn too far into himself to notice his surroundings, and it was not until Kiku reached out and patted him clumsily on the shoulder that he noticed he had suddenly gotten a lot closer. Heracles looked at him, and saw only gentle, quiet encouragement.

Fear of judgment disappeared. Somehow, Heracles got the feeling it did not exist here. Not with Kiku. He smiled at him, loosened his posture, and decided it was about time he stopped taking himself so seriously. "Well, I thought it was a good idea to put this blue stripe in my hair and wear clothes that were far too tight and colorful. My parents were horrified, but…" Heracles let out a short burst of nostalgic laughter. "I looked like a fool. I acted like a fool." His smile faltered, and he lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug. "So people treated me like a fool."

Heracles could have gone on –about the insults, the social isolation, his ignorance towards all of it –but he didn't. Between the look in Kiku's eyes and how perceptive Heracles already knew he was, it was unnecessary. Heracles's story was almost embarrassingly petty in comparison to what he had read that very afternoon, but Kiku still managed to look interested… perhaps even sympathetic. Heracles shifted in his seat and attempted to move the focus.

"I wore cat ears to school at one point."

Kiku's face went blank.

"Cat ears," Heracles repeated. "On a headband. I thought I was…unique, or something. It may be best not to ask."

Kiku let out a sound that was just shy of a giggle, but as quickly as it started, it ended. The quiet that fell over them was comfortable… Heracles was not. He should have been, because Kiku's warm presence and soft smile were beautiful, but the fleeting feeling of lightness faded too quickly for his liking. He was too aware there was still one thing left to say. Something Heracles had never told anyone. Something that was such a huge yet guarded art of his past, and after all this time, he needed to say something.

And Kiku was the perfect person to tell.

"Evidentially, all this did not make me very popular. Thankfully, my mother…" Heracles's throat felt thick, and speaking felt like being cut open. He did it anyway. "My mother was always there for me. No matter what I did." He could feel Kiku looking at him now, feel his undeserved sympathy, feel his own eyes growing bleary, and all this _feeling _was getting to be too, too much. Heracles looked away and whispered. "Was."

Then, Heracles's willingness to speak ended. He knew he had thoroughly ruined the mood, and he did not want to talk about this anymore – not about his mother's bad heart, not about her decline, not about her passing just a couple years back, not about his father that was almost never around. Not about the last time he had really, truly cried. Not about how the disgusting way he acted with girls, with boys, with _men, _in an attempt to forget. Not about the crushing loneliness that, at one point or another, Sadiq had soothed with his limitless noise and vast carelessness. Not about anything. He thought he was ready, but now it was painfully obvious he was wrong.

Kiku looked unsure, perhaps even worried, but Heracles brushed it off both internally and externally. He mumbled, "Never mind."

The silence was usually a simple relief. Now it was the water when everything was burning. Heracles gave into it, sunk into it like he was willingly drowning, and let the world fade away as he closed his eyes. It was all he had the energy to do. Why did he even open his mouth to begin with? It seemed that all of his problems always stemmed from needless, troublesome words. He knew he left far too much out of this story, that what he said barely explained anything… but some stories were best left incomplete.

Heracles gave into reality again at the sound of rustling paper. He opened his eyes looked up, his head feeling weighted, to see Kiku had finally gone into his bag and procured his notebook. A blank page had already been opened, and on it was a single sentence. _Do you still have them? _Heracles must have looked confused, he could not even tell, because Kiku looked down and added: _The ears. _

It took Heracles too long of a moment to realize Kiku was changing the subject. Of course… he must have understood. Unlike many people who pushed and prodded unrelentingly for details, Kiku always knew when to leave it be, always seemed to know exactly what Heracles was feeling no matter how little he showed it. Heracles's blood no longer felt like acid. "I believe so, actually." The weight pressing down on him was relieved, and Heracles began to stand. "Let me check."

Surprisingly, they did not take long to find. It took only a trip to his room, a few open drawers, and half-cynical, half-amused chuckle when he found them under a pile of long-abandoned papers. Heracles returned to the living room with his hands behind his back.

"Again, it is best not to ask," he said as he sat down. As he brought the headband in front of him and his fingers across the felt of the ears, Kiku looking on with that perpetually unreadable expression, Heracles realized his hands were unsteady. At first it confused him. Then he realized… never in his life had he been so concerned with what another person thought of him. When Sadiq called him stupid, lazy, yelled at him without inhibition or pause, it had no affect. On the other hand, the simple idea that Kiku may think he was strange hit like hammer and drove fear to the pit of his stomach. Heracles ignored the feeling and shrugged, hoping to seem nonchalant. "I _have_ always wanted to be a cat…"

The words dissolved into the dead air, and after a brief, cold second of silence, Kiku laughed for a second time. Then everything was warm again. Right then, Heracles decided Kiku had one of those rare laughs that someone would only come across a few times in their life. It was one that never felt mocking, never sounded rude, and no matter what, always managed to break whatever anxiety was hanging in the air to forgotten pieces. It was the kind that was frequent enough to be familiar and rare enough to be treasured. But perhaps he was biased.

Heracles looked down at his hands and realized they were steady. Maybe he had not given himself enough credit earlier. "You know, Kiku, I believe my mother really would have liked you."

.

The afternoon passed in a haze of muted nerves and revelation. Many things had surprised Heracles that day, but what really took the cake was how easy he found speaking once he got started. Even though he ended up feeling too much, from the tight knot in his stomach to the unfamiliar sting in his eyes, he told Kiku everything he could about his mother –both her life and her death. Kiku simply listened, sometimes offering a written response, but mainly nodding along solemnly. It was definitely not something he was used to. But about halfway through his twenty-minute long spiel, Heracles realized it was something he needed.

Heracles said all he could, and in return, Kiku wrote all he could. He went a bit more into detail than what his letter had said, answered any tentative question Heracles dared to ask, but soon they both came to the unspoken agreement that it was time to move away from this dark place. It was not difficult to find someplace lighter. For the rest of the afternoon they spoke about the cats, exchanged stories that were easy on the heart, and at one point, Heracles actually managed to get Kiku to try on those ridiculous ears. _That _had certainly not been easy on the heart… Heracles tried to pretend it was, for decency's sake.

Sadiq was not mentioned once.

The silent nirvana was broken when Kiku's phone went off. Again Heracles had not realized the time, but according to Yao, Kiku needed to get home for dinner.

"Well," said Heracles as he stood, Aphrodite scampering from his lap. He tried not to sound disappointed. "That's that, I suppose. Thank you for coming today."

Kiku nodded as he collected his things. When he stood, the ridiculous, long-forgotten cat ear headband fell from his lap and clattered to the floor. He picked them up and held them out to Heracles, but after a moment's consideration Heracles simply smiled and shook his head. "You may keep them. Perhaps they will…" _remind you of me. _Heracles blinked against the thought. It seemed too sentimental, too obscurely _romantic _for what this was… or at least what it was supposed to be. Then he realized all of this, from the nervousness in his chest to the flush of his face, was unacceptable. With a jolt of panic came a hurried finish. "Perhaps you will find a use for them."

Kiku seemed unfazed. He only nodded in place of a thank you and placed them in his bag, and Heracles felt a rush of relief.

Then Aphrodite pawed at Kiku's leg.

"Oh, how cute." Heracles smiled down at the cat as it mewed up at Kiku. "I think she does not want you to leave."

Kiku tilted his head, confused, but smiled moments after. With his bag still hanging from his shoulder, he stooped down and scratched behind Aphrodite's ears. She purred in response, and what happened next was like a chain reaction. First it was Hades, who was a few feet away and obviously not appreciative about being ignored, that ran across the room and rubbed up against Kiku's side. Kiku chuckled lightly and patted his head. Then came Dionysus, then Achilles, Hera, Athena… Kiku began to look a bit overwhelmed, but it was not until Zeus, the most rambunctious of the lot, pounced on his chest that it really spiraled out of control.

"Are you alright?" asked Heracles frantically, seeing as Kiku had been knocked onto his back. "I apologize for them, they must just really like you."

But Kiku did not seem upset. He flipped his hand in the air to signal he was alright, and then he laughed. A true, pure, beautiful laugh, as the cats rubbed against his arms and licked his face and Kiku tried, halfheartedly, to push them away. Heracles froze. This was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing he had ever seen. He tried to suppress the emotion in his chest, but his efforts were in vain and eventually he had no choice but to surrender. His heart leapt. It soared. His face burned with an invisible flame, his eyes refused to move, his knees felt weak. Kiku's laughter made him forget the world was imperfect.

The reason was obvious, even if Heracles's wished it wasn't. Kiku was beautiful, he was breathtaking, he made Heracles nervous, and things only felt right when he was around to make him feel that way. He _was _perfect.

And Heracles could not deny that anymore.

.

The storm from that afternoon was a distant memory by now. Kiku sat on his bed after dinner, the orange light from the sunset filtering through the sparse clouds and setting his room ablaze. The evening was warm, calm, and quietly beautiful. The feeling got when he thumbed the ridiculous set of cat ears in his hands was the same.

As Kiku stared down at the headband, he could only wonder how anyone in their right mind would wear them in public. But of course… Heracles seemed far from in his right mind, most of the time. Kiku smiled unthinkingly against the thought. Heracles was so strange. But he was also kind, and thoughtful, and far more intelligent than what Kiku assumed people gave him credit for. A little eccentricity never hurt anyone.

Kiku turned the headband over in his hands absently. He had told Heracles so much, more than he had ever told anymore, and… he understood. He listened, even when there was nothing to hear; when he spoke, it was always the right thing to say. He never wasted his breath on words that meant nothing. Kiku had never met anyone like him. He had also never met someone who had the ability to take over his thoughts, quicken his pulse, and leave an uncharacteristic, dopey grin on his face at the mere thought of him.

The thoughts were obliterated when there was a knock at the door. "Kiku, can I come in?" asked Yao from the other side.

Kiku came back down to earth with a jolt, shoved the headband under his pillow and rapped twice on his bed frame, signaling Yao to enter. It took a monumental effort to assume what he hoped was a blank expression.

Of course, Yao knew him too well. "Are you alright, Kiku? You've been acting strange this evening," he said as he opened the door and walked in.

Kiku nodded instinctively. If there was one thing he didn't need, it was for this day to get any more complicated.

Yao raised an eyebrow and sat on the edge of the bed. He was smiling, just subtly enough to be annoyingly perceptive. There was something sly about it. He managed to rein it in, however, and when he spoke it sounded flippant. "So, you saw Heracles today?" he asked. Kiku slowly nodded, and Yao nodded back. "That's nice. You two have been spending a lot of time together lately."

Kiku narrowed his eyes. His stomach twisted, because a part of him knew where this was heading, but he decided to play dumb and just nodded again.

Yao leant forward. He said nothing, but the shine in his eyes and the knowingness in his grin spoke far louder than anything he could say.

Kiku sighed, reached across the mattress, and retrieved his notebook. At this point he knew what Yao was getting at, and he also knew that he was not going to leave him be until he at least humored him. _Are you trying to say something, Yao? _

"Oh, Kiku, please." Yao let out a short laugh. "I hardly even see you anymore. When you are here, you're always lost in your own little world. I think I have an idea what's going on with that boy."

Kiku suddenly felt on fire. He shook his head, too fervently to be believable, the knot in his stomach tightening and his already fast pulse speeding up even further. He was not sure why he was denying it. All he knew was that the urge was powerful, all-encompassing. He almost felt as if he was being accused of something.

Yao's expression did not change. It was almost patronizing. "Kiku, I thought we got over this embarrassment over your orientation. I mean, really, it's the same as mine."

Kiku reached behind himself, picked up a pillow, and promptly threw it at Yao's head.

"Hey!" exclaimed Yao in protest. He let out a breath, his shock and partial annoyance fading, and finally he just looked understanding. "Why are you so embarrassed, Kiku? I am happy for you."

Kiku sighed. Really he was not sure why he was embarrassed, he just… was. After all, he had never felt this way before. It was new, it was exciting, and in some strange, inescapable way, it was frightening. Since what happened to him, he had never allowed anyone to get too close. In fact he had never even wanted anyone near him. Now the wall he had build around him was crumpling, dissolving, and he had no desire to put it back up. He _wanted _Heracles to be close, to speak to him, even _touch _him… Kiku forced away the thoughts to keep from flushing. The fact they existed at all was alarming.

Writing was his only outlet._ How would I even know if he is… _Kiku paused, allowing his pen to hover over the page. He finally finished with, _like me? _

Yao looked at him as if he had just asked what color the sky was. "He gave you cat ears, Kiku." Upon seeing Kiku's startled expression, Yao pointed to the space his pillow used to occupy. Kiku closed his eyes painfully. Stupid, stupid… "What straight man do you know who-"

Yao was cut off when the second pillow on the bed followed the same path as the first. He groaned as it tumbled to the floor. "I'm just trying to help!"

Kiku adverted his eyes, almost ashamed. _Sorry, _he wrote. _But even if that was true, he probably does not feel the same. _As he finished the sentence, his stomach dropped to his feet, his chest seized, and a dull pain shot through his veins. All of it at once felt like an unexpected punch in the gut.

"I doubt that." Yao smiled as he said it, but Kiku was not convinced. He turned his attention to picking at the paper. How could someone as magnificent as Heracles ever be interested in someone, well, broken? Whether it was a boy or a girl he was after, Kiku was certain he could do better.

"Well," said Yao after Kiku failed to respond. "There's only one way to find out."

Kiku shot him a look before writing: _What would that be? _A part of him knew the answer, and it was one that made him feel faint. There was no way, absolutely no way…

Yao shrugged. "Kiss him."

He said it like it was the easiest, most obvious thing in the world, as if emptying the ocean with a teaspoon would not be easier, as if Kiku was not dizzied by the idea. This was one of the ways he was different from Yao. While Yao was pretty reserved himself, he had no problem with who he was, and it seemed he never had much of a problem dating. Kiku had long resigned to the fact that his brother was seeing someone young enough to be his classmate, even if Yao thought it was a secret. But Kiku was different. He could not put himself out there like that. Not after all that had happened.

He wrote only one thing: _No. _

"I know it seems drastic, but Kiku," Yao placed his hand on Kiku's shoulder, "you have isolated yourself for so long. I think you could have something great here, and I really do not want you to let it slip away. This could be really, really good for you."

Kiku nearly put pen to paper again, neither scrawled out another immediate refusal, but something stopped him. Something kept the page in front of him blank. It was an impossible idea, kissing Heracles, but… Kiku felt his chest swell at the idea. It scared him to admit it, but he wanted this. And he was almost convinced it could work. Almost.

The lack of a response must have been one in itself. Yao smiled, stood up, and placed the pillows back on the bed. "Good luck, Kiku."

He left the room, and Kiku was left with nothing but his thoughts, hopes, and racing pulse. He had made his decision. And it would turn out as either the worst or best one he had ever made in his life.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

Sadiq slammed his glass against the table, let out something between a groan and a scream, and said for about the millionth time, "I can't stand that asshole!"

Stelios rubbed his temples. "Sadiq," he said. "We have been over this. It would be helpful if you could at least explain _why _you're so mad at Heracles."

It was moments like this that made Sadiq feel both grateful for and sympathetic towards Stelios. The poor kid had always been stuck in the middle of Sadiq and Heracles's mess, which he supposed was a natural consequence of being friends with both of them. He had been listening to this for the past twenty minutes –or, more realistically, the past two years– and even though Sadiq could tell he was sick of it, he couldn't stop. He had no one else to talk to. "Well, I never see him."

"If you really cannot stand him, is that really such a bad thing?"

Sadiq pursed his lips. Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity of ranting, he found himself at a loss for words. Getting furiously angry and yelling was one thing. Actually _talking about his feelings _like a middle-aged woman in marriage counseling was a whole different world. Hell, the very idea disgusted him. Eventually, he mumbled, "We're dating. He should be around."

Stelios blinked. "Okay, well, have you asked him why-"

"No."

Even though Stelios looked like he was considering slamming Sadiq's head against the table, he was able to reel himself back in with a deep breath. It was probably a good thing that he was more similar to Heracles when it came to temper. "I'm not exactly sure what you want me to do, here."

Sadiq was not sure, either. He had long resigned to the fact that he was no longer sure about anything, and it had been that way for far too long. He let his eyes fall to the table and traced a grove in the wood. The fire in his blood was extinguished, leaving only a dull, simmering pain in its place. "I know, I know. I just…" Sadiq looked away as his cheeks began to burn. "Miss him, or something."

"Finally." Stelios exhaled sharply, not far off from a sigh of relief. "Look, Sadiq, I know you'd rather cut off your arm than admit it, but I know you really care about him. You love him." He spoke as if he was trying to convince the both of them of it.

Sadiq curled his fingers into his palm. He could not deny any of that, and it only made him angrier. He spoke through gritted teeth. "So what?"

_"__So, _it makes sense you're upset he is ignoring you. This is not terribly difficult." Stelios tipped his head thoughtfully. "Now, if you would only ask him why that is, it would make things a lot less easier on all of us."

Sadiq wanted to say that he couldn't do that. Asking would make him seem needy, vulnerable, _weak, _and that was simply unacceptable. He scoffed in an attempt to dismiss both the request and the thoughts in his head. "Nah. I mean, I think I have an idea why." Sadiq thought back to Heracles's sudden preoccupation to his cellphone and grimaced. "Herc is suddenly obsessed with his cousin. He never stops texting him."

Stelios's expression was suddenly blank. He looked down at his hands, then back at Sadiq, and narrowed his eyes. "His cousin." It sounded more like a statement of disbelief than a question, and Sadiq was immediately confused by it.

Sadiq nodded firmly. "Yeah, his cousin. Harpocrates or something."

"Heracles hasn't been talking to you because he has been speaking to his cousin, Harpocates." Stelios sounded robotic. Sadiq felt his confusion morph back into anger, and he flipped his hands in the air.

"Yes!"

"Sadiq." Stelios blinked away his stunned expression and shook his head as if to clear it. Sadiq leant closer to him unconsciously, his heart in his throat. He had no idea what was going on and the loss of control made him want to explode from his body. "Heracles is not in contact with any of his cousins. In fact, I'm not sure if any of them are still around. He's mentioned this to me many times."

Sadiq's blood ran ice cold and stopped in his veins. No, that did not make any sense. If Heracles had no cousins… if Heracles was lying… then who was he talking to? Why was he hiding it? Sadiq felt a crushing need to scream, to curse, to hunt Heracles down and drag the information out of him, but his voice refused to work and his body refused to move and all he was able to do with sit in the terrible silence. Stelios broke it.

"Oh, and Harpocrates is the name of an ancient Greek God. Not exactly used today…" Stelios trailed off as if saying too much. Sadiq stopped breathing. It was an alias. God, why was Heracles using a damn alias for someone… "I'm not sure why he would tell you that." Stelios glanced at Sadiq, and his eyes widened. He continued in a jumbled hurry. "Well, I guess he must have a reason, I mean-"

"He's cheating on me." And suddenly, violently, like a glass bottle being shattered over his head, came far too much emotion to separate or understand. It all made sense now… Heracles's fascination with his phone, his secretiveness about it, his constant rushing away, that note he was reading like it contained the meaning of the universe… it must have been a love letter. Or a confession, or some equally cheesy, cliché thing that felt like a bullet to the skull to think about. Sadiq had known Heracles used to be promiscuous, but he thought, he just thought… Sadiq could only see a blinding flash of red. On legs that were not his, he stood from the table and slammed both his hands full force against it. The chair clattered to the floor. Stelios jumped. "Oh my god, he's CHEATING on me!"

Stelios lurched forward and tried to grab his arm. Sadiq jerked away. "You don't know that. This is… strange, yes, but I really don't think Heracles would-"

"Like hell he wouldn't! He's probably been doing this the entire goddamn time!" And nothing could convince him differently. His mind was too far-gone; it was racing in too many different directions. It took all Sadiq had not to destroy everything around him. He held himself back just barely, but there was a bomb in him, and it was just waiting, waiting to go off. He needed to get out of here, needed to be alone before he exploded and demolished more than he could fix. "Fuck, I have to go, just… GOD!" Sadiq said the last word in a screaming growl.

Stelios looked too scared to respond. Sadiq ignored it, tore out of the house, and raced into the silent, world-ending night.

Sadiq had never been so happy to see his house empty. He slammed the door and leaned against it, attempting to pull the air back to his burning lungs, but the attempt was worthless. Worthless, just like the two turbulent, confusing, frustrating and occasionally _wonderful _years he had invested into Heracles, both of which breaking apart at the seams and crashing into him like a storm-tossed sea against the rocks. Sadiq was under the current. He was powerless to it, powerless to save whatever this had been, because it had always been nothing. Nothing to Heracles, at least.

Heracles. Heracles _fucking _Karpusi. At the mere thought of the name Sadiq grabbed a near-empty bottle of liquor left out from yesterday, finished the rest of it, and sent it shattering against the wall on the other side of the room. That too was useless. Even in the broken glass he saw Heracles, who was undoubtedly with this other person right then, right as Sadiq broke apart and screamed and panicked. He was the only person Sadiq could ever bring himself to love, the only person he had ever even bothered to care about. Maybe he had done a terrible job of expressing it. Maybe he never deserved him. But _this… _Sadiq picked up at chair and threw it.

"How goddamn LONG…" Sadiq trailed off, fumbled for another bottle, and relished in the way the liquid burned his throat and watered his eyes. He wanted, no, _needed _to know how long. Had it started before or after their first messy, awkward kiss on the sidewalk in front of this very house? During their first time –an imperfect, rushed, rough affair on Heracles's couch- who had he actually been thinking about? Maybe that was why he always closed his damn eyes.

"I love you…" Sadiq trailed off in a near growl as he remembered the first time Heracles had said it. He had been half asleep, his head against Sadiq's shoulder out of what he claimed was convenience alone, and it had been quiet and slurred. But he had said it. Sadiq remembered how his chest had tightened, how his heart had skipped… He laughed wildly, manically, without any humor behind it. Had any of it ever been real? Laughter turned to a boiling scream when Sadiq realized the best moment of his life had likely been a shameless façade.

Sadiq strode to the wall, clenched his fist and threw it against the flimsy plaster. He finished the bottle in his uninjured hand, realized that not even it was helping anymore, and smashed it against the table. The glass cut into his palm as it cascaded to the floor like diamonds. He did not feel it. All he felt has the furious, relentless flame tearing through his veins and pulsing in his heart.

Counting to ten proved nearly impossible, but Sadiq just barely managed to do it. The last rational bone in his body was preventing him from destroying the entirety of the house. He sat down and counted the shards of glass on the table, the scratches on his skin, the signs he should have noticed but didn't. One, two horizontal gashes on his hands… what should he do? Leave him– he couldn't. If that was at all possible, if he held the ability, it would have been done ages ago. Three missed phone calls, four… he could confront him. Make a scene. Tear into Heracles like he had just torn into his house until there was nothing left but the raw, ripped shreds of what could have been– he could not do that either. Five, six… Ignore it– it was what Sadiq was best at. But dammit, it would solve _nothing. _

Sadiq stood again with the force of a bullet from a gun. Some absurd mix of frustration, despair and fury shot through his chest, his arms, until he could not control his hands and the table was on its side. But that ended up being the last of it. Sadiq was too confused, too devastated to deny, and there was only so much anger could cover. He struggled for a breath of air he eventually managed, sunk to the floor and gripped his throbbing head in his bloody hands.

He wondered momentarily what he was like- or she, whatever. All that mattered was that this person was not him. They were probably the opposite… probably gentle, probably open… Heracles probably smiled at them… Sadiq reached a breaking point he had not known existed. His breath hitched, his chest seized, and he started to cry before he could bring his trembling hands to cover his eyes. It did not matter he was alone. He had never felt more ashamed.

It was ironic, how in that exact moment Sadiq almost wished Heracles were here.

Later that night, Sadiq went to another party. He was not sure why he bothered. Maybe it was a sad attempt to forget, maybe to remember there was still something careless and simple left in the world. Maybe there was no real reason at all. He tried to speak to Katyusha when he saw her, tried to laugh, tried to dance. But mostly he drank. Drank until things were hazy enough to ignore, until his limbs felt like static and stumbling home felt like walking on a boat in the middle of a hurricane. This time there was no one to steady him.

Sadiq could barely remember any of it by the time he reached his bed. He was boneless, weighed down as if there was a boulder lying on him, just barely conscious and just barely holding it together. Even though it felt like dragging a block up a pyramid, he rolled on his side and ran his useless hand over the empty space beside him. It was cold. His wounds stung against the fabric.

Despite it all, Sadiq knew, somewhere in the back of his alcohol-soaked, rage-singed mind, that there was a turning point looming closer. Nearly close enough to touch. This circle he had been running around was growing worn and tired. His life with Heracles was a string, one that frayed at the middle and came closer to snapping each and every day.

Something had to give.

Sadiq saw his phone in his doubling vision, reached for his nightstand table… but his traitorous fingers went for for the half-empty bottle he had taken home instead. Then the world turned, his hand went limp, and it clattered uselessly to the floor with a dull thud. His body was useless. So was his mind. He was not sure if he could recall his name if someone asked. However, he did remember one. "Heracles, dammit…" Sadiq's slurred words melted against the pillow as all turned black. Darkness. Oblivion.

Sadiq lost himself. Now, there was no one to find him.

.

The change was so subtle that Heracles could not believe he noticed it. By the time he found Kiku outside at the end of the next school day, however, he got the immediate feeling that something was different. Kiku looked nervous, but then again, he always did. Heracles was just to those nerves by now. But they had never been… quite like this.

Kiku was standing against the wall like always, but today he lacked his usual stillness. He was fidgeting with his hands, with his stance. His gaze looked unwilling to settle on one spot. Heracles's stomach dropped, and for a moment, he was sure Kiku was panicking again. But this was different. This was impossible to place. The far-off look in Kiku's eyes mirrored those waiting to be called for an interview, rather than someone lost deep, too deep, in thoughts of the past. This kind of anxiety was more common… but not for Kiku. As Heracles approached him he could not fight off a fleeting twinge of concern, but what he was truly feeling was something closer to confusion.

"Good afternoon, Kiku." Heracles said it casually anyway, as if everything was normal. He hoped it was.

Kiku glanced up and gave a tiny nod, flushed red, then took a sudden interest in drawing invisible circles on the ground with his shoe.

A heart-stopping thought entered Heracles's mind – what if Kiku now saw him differently? The last time he had seen him was that eventful afternoon he had told him everything, and even if he had reacted fine then… Heracles gulped back his fear. "Is something the matter?"

Kiku shook his head quickly, too quickly. Heracles decided not to push it. He had no paper in his hands, and there was no sense is forcing him to take it out only so he could, Heracles assumed, say he was fine again. Though things still felt vaguely wrong, Heracles nodded once in acknowledgment and began to walk when Kiku did.

Even as they walked the same sidewalk they had for weeks now, things felt no more natural or familiar. Heracles wanted to fill the silence but he couldn't, because there was nothing worth saying, nothing that would make it above his tangled thoughts and conflicting emotions. A small, dangerous part of him screamed that something was terribly wrong. Something was waiting to jump at him, like a monster from the shadows. But Heracles ignored it. It was a ridiculous thing to feel, after all.

After what felt like an eternity of silent worry, contemplation, and suppression of both of the former, they reached Kiku's house. Kiku was not looking at him, but he made no attempts to move, either. Heracles was not sure what to do. He was torn between walking away, asking some other unanswerable question, and staying glued to this spot forever. The past days had passed so quickly and revealed so much that Heracles was still not sure what to make of all that was now between them. It felt as if he had known Kiku for a lifetime, and it almost scared him how hard it was getting to walk away. But of course, he had to.

Heracles looked down at the sidewalk and counted the cracks. "Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow."

Kiku suddenly broke from his immobility, like a statue coming to life. He reached forward but ended up drawing back, leaving his hand suspended in the air, his face worrying red, and his eyes frantic.

Heracles did not take long to notice Kiku was shaking. For a moment, he considered reminding him to continue to breathe. Instead, though rapidly growing concern, he said, "Kiku?"

Kiku took a long, audible breath that seemed to be vital to his consciousness. He lowered his tremulous hand, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a scrap of paper that he pressed to Heracles's open palm. Heracles forgot how to breathe, and the vague feeling of _something _that had followed him here like a shadow began to engulf him. He glanced at Kiku one more time before unfolding the note. On it was not a life story, but just a few lines.

_I have wanted to tell you something for awhile. I apologize for this, but I do not know how else to do it. I like you, Heracles. _

"Oh." Heracles tipped his head, panic again turning to confusion. This constant volley between the two was getting to be quite tiring. He traced the letters over with his eyes, unable to make sense of them, unable to see the vast importance Kiku's expression was suggesting. He had always assumed Kiku liked him. After all, why else would he willingly spend time with him? Confused, tired, and a little overwhelmed, he finally said, "Well, I like you too, Kiku."

Heracles did not think this would be news to him. But apparently it was, because Kiku's eyes flashed strangely, his shoulders tensed, and a small, broken gasp escaped his lips. Heracles did not understand… not as Kiku stepped closer, not as he flushed darker, not as he rested his hands on his shoulders. Heracles's heart hammered against his ribs, his skin burned under the touch, but he still did not understand.

Not until Kiku closed his eyes.

Realization hit Heracles like a blast of cold water, his heart stopped in his chest, and the sun stopped in the sky. Kiku looked as if he was waiting for something, and Heracles suddenly understood what that thing was. Still, none of it felt real. This could _not _be real. Heracles had told himself, again and again, that it would not get to this point. He even told himself he didn't want it. But Kiku's hands were so soft and gentle and _real_ against his skin, and he looked so beautiful under the sun, and as he made the tiniest movement closer Heracles lost the ability to deny that Kiku was everything he had ever wanted and wished for. He knew what was happening, and he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Giving in to this would make Heracles the exact kind of vile person he detested. But Kiku was so, so close, and he was so perfect, and no one had ever made him feel this way. Time moved both too fast and too slow, and Heracles realized with a jolt he had a split second to decide between his head and his heart.

Heracles's hands moved on their own accord. They fell to Kiku's chest… and pushed him back. It was not forceful, but Heracles felt sickening guilt set in as if he had shoved him. Anything that brought Kiku farther from him felt wrong. Everything about this was wrong, or maybe it was right, Heracles did not even know anymore. Nothing made sense. He had barely allowed himself to dream of this, and now all it felt like was a nightmare. Everything was fast, surreal, and his mind was reeling though the rest of the world was deadly silent and still. When Kiku looked up, his eyes were screaming.

"I…" Heracles grappled for words, for something to fix this, for a way to explain himself. He had always known, somewhere behind the infatuation he denied, that he would have to tell Kiku eventually. But not like this. This was the worst way, his mind kept shrieking at him. But he knew he could not put it off any longer. His heart dropped to his stomach, and he said what he had avoided for far too long. "I have a boyfriend."

Heracles realized, with a sharp stab of dread, how bad this looked.

Guilt turned the air to tar. When Kiku's expression switched from confusion to shock, then finally pure, intense hurt, something that looked so wrong on his face, Heracles could barely remain standing. Kiku took a step back, white from surprise then red from… embarrassment? Shame? Annoyance? Heracles could not tell. He could only feel panic, feel everything breaking to pieces around him, and started speaking long before he realized he was worsening the wound.

"His name is Sadiq, and he's incredibly rude, but we have been together two years, and…" It was not until Heracles trailed off that he realized everything he said was true. After weeks spent in a daze, reality was flooding back in, and he found himself in the midst of a mess he had created. He could only whisper. "I'm sorry." He was not sure exactly what the words were in reference to. There was too much to apologize for.

Kiku looked up, his expression a cross between humiliation and… anger. Kiku had never looked angry before. For a moment Heracles almost believed he was seeing things. But Kiku's eyes were bleary, his face was flushed, and for a long, horrid second, all Heracles could do was stare and try to make sense of it all. For once the silence was terrible.

Heracles parted his lips to speak, as if speaking would solve anything. All he had left was hollow repetition. "Kiku, I'm sorr-"

Kiku shook his head fiercely, turned away, and raced to his house, leaving Heracles and his useless words behind.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I've made the decision to switch the rating over to M, just in case. Don't worry, there's not going to be anything terribly graphic in this story, but I figured it's better to be safe than sorry.**

* * *

The sun was low in the sky. Kiku lay on his bed, perfectly still and numb, and watched the light reflect off the pages of his notebook from its spot on the floor. The words he had forced on the page were tremulous and heavy enough to leave indents. The cover was crumbled now, because Yao had thrown it. Kiku had flinched at the sudden, angry movement, and Yao had apologized, but even now he would not stop going off about what Kiku managed to tell him. Kiku had almost succeeded in tuning him out. Almost.

"He is _vile, _Kiku. Absolutely vile." Yao stormed to the side of the bed and picked the notebook up again, his fiery eyes glazing over the few sentences Kiku had written for what was probably the tenth time. It was as if he expected the story to change. "You are telling me he hasn't mentioned this boy _once?_"

Kiku hugged the pillow in his arms closer to his chest as the name played over and over again in his thoughts. Sadiq, his traitorous mind kept repeating. Sadiq, Heracles's _boyfriend… _Kiku closed his eyes, shook his head, and silently cursed himself. He should have guessed. Should have known.

"Unbelievable." Yao let the notebook drop with a loud thud. "And he even said he liked you."

_Well, I like you too, Kiku… _Kiku closed his eyes tighter, as if cutting off his vision would somehow erase the memory. It took a herculean effort not to plug his ears like a spoilt child. He did not want to hear about this, did not want to think about it, did not want to deal with it at all. He wanted to forget. But that had never been something he was good at.

"He completely led you on," Yao continued, ignoring that Kiku had not yet acknowledged his ranting with so much as a glance. "And then he just… what? He did not even explain himself!"

Kiku let out a breath. Did Yao think he did not know what happened? Sometimes he got the feeling that his brother did not only think he was mute, but blind, deaf, and completely incompetent as well. He did not open his eyes, for he could not summon the energy.

"It just makes me so angry! I simply will not allow people to take advantage of you, Kiku. I swear, I should pick up the phone right now and call Iva-" Yao broke off abruptly with a short cough. For just a moment, Kiku was almost amused enough to chuckle. Of course, he didn't.

Yao looked a bit too flustered to continue speaking, so Kiku took advantage of the relieving silence. Needing nothing more than to zone out for a while, he let his arm dangle over the side of the bed, reached for the abused notebook, and then for the pen a few inches away. He would draw something. The repetitive, mindless marks against the paper were bound to take his mind off this mess. But when he flipped to a back page, the first thing he opened to was two cats. One was in a slightly different style – the one Heracles had drawn with his face pinched in concentration, oblivious to Kiku continuously glancing up from the page to watch him.

Kiku dropped the open notebook on the floor for the millionth time, rolled onto his back, and covered his eyes with his hands. No tears escaped them– Kiku had forgotten how to truly cry around the time he forgot how to speak. But he felt them deep down, right along with the emptiness and the millions of words he could not bring to the surface to save his life. All was forever locked inside.

Yao gave an audible sigh, walked to the side of the bed, and sat down beside him. Kiku was grateful when he made no attempts to touch him, even more so when his voice finally softened. "I'm sorry, Kiku, I honestly thought this would go much better than it did."

Kiku took a breath and nodded. He could not bring himself to be angry with Yao… or Heracles, or this Sadiq person, or anyone other than himself. This was his fault. If he had only kept his ridiculous feelings to himself, had only learned to be satisfied with the wonderful thing he and Heracles already had, maybe it would not have blown up in his face. Maybe he would not have lost the first true friend he ever had. Kiku swallowed past the lump in his throat and stared unseeing into the darkness, still not crying, still partially wishing he still held the ability.

"You don't need him."

It was only then, at that ludicrous sentence that might as well have been in a foreign language, that Kiku opened his eyes. He might have laughed, if it was not for the weight pushing down on his lungs. Of course he needed Heracles. Needed everything from his gentle spirit and his old soul to the green in his eyes and the warm touch of his hand. He needed his kindness, his understanding. Just the thought of it all sent Kiku's heart seizing. Yes, he needed Heracles, and he needed him so much it _scared _him. Kiku nearly burst with the need to say all of that, he even tried to force out a word, but all of it was stuck in his throat, pulsing through his blood. This silence was impossible to break.

So Kiku only shrugged.

Yao sighed, as if to finally resign. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, then. I'll see you at dinner." He hesitated for no longer than a second, exhaled in what was nearly a sigh, then stood up and left the room.

When the door shut with a soft click, Kiku was grateful for the solidarity, in some respect. But mostly he dreaded it. His thoughts would not leave him alone, would not be quiet, and now he was stuck alone with them. The events of the afternoon played like a broken record, but none more repetitively than the emotions he had cycled through– the nerves that nearly knocked him to the ground, the joy that nearly shot him to the sky, the disappointment-laced humiliation that made him want to fade into nothing. He had not felt that way in a very long time, but it still felt sickeningly familiar.

At least now, he knew. Knew that Heracles was taken, that he did not like him that way, that he was likely not as perfect as Kiku had mentally made him out to be. For the love of God, Heracles was a liar– by omission, at least. But a large part of him could not believe that. All this time, and Heracles had never struck Kiku as anything but honest, innocent, and overall a good, genuine person. Kiku had learned by now what dishonestly looked like, what it sounded like, and nothing about Heracles fit the bill. Everything about this was just confusing.

Through all the reasoning and logic and sanity, Kiku could not help but let one senseless thought slip through: Maybe what had happened had nothing to do with a secret boyfriend. Maybe Kiku had been right all along… Heracles simply did not want something broken.

Somehow, it felt like the most logical answer.

.

For one of the first times in his life, Heracles could not sleep. He could not summon the energy to move from his couch to his bedroom, either, or do anything besides pet the cats nestled around him. They had all come to him the moment he dragged his feet through the door- it was almost as if they had sensed his mood. Usually this would be his safe haven, but now, not even this quiet solitude with his cats was making him feel better. He did not want this lonely silence. He wanted _Kiku's _silence.

Heracles ran his hand across Zeus's brown fur, but even that led his memory to the same place. It was hard to believe that Kiku had been in his house just days before, sitting by his side, helping him dry his cats, glancing up at him with those perplexing brown eyes he could never quite read… Heracles felt the painful knot in his chest tighten. Zeus flinched under his tensing hand.

Heracles had always been at least partially aware that this was a bad idea. He had been oblivious to it in the beginning, when Kiku was simply lost and in need of help, but the more he got to know him, the more he grew accustomed to his quiet presence in his life, the more he realized he was getting into something that would be very hard to get out of. Heracles had been looking for a simple friendship. What he got was an honest to god crush, if not something even more. Judging by how cold, dark, and hopeless everything felt right now, he got the feeling it was the latter.

But that was unacceptable. Heracles was with Sadiq… for some reason. Really, he was not sure why that was anymore. It was not as if they were married or had any real reason to be together. Heracles could end it five minutes from now, logistically. Most people would call him insane for not doing it five _months _ago. But deep down he knew that, once upon a time, there had been a reason. And maybe that reason still lingered.

Heracles leant back against the cushions, pulled Aphrodite to his chest, and finally admitted it to himself.

The year after Heracles's mother passed was by far the worst of his life. He had spent it wandering in a constant state of hollow anger and sadness, wishing for happiness or at least comfort that he could not find, and as a result, looking for it in all the wrong places. Places like spare bedrooms, the backseat of cars, and eventually… with Sadiq. In the midst of a deafening silence that allowed too many memories and thoughts and emotions to roam free, Sadiq had been the noise to drown all of it out.

They had not gotten along from the start. In some sick, twisted way, for a long time Heracles had almost _enjoyed _the fights and the arguments and the yelling. As exhausting as it was, it was a distraction. It was reliable. When Sadiq had asked him to be exclusive after weeks of shameless encounters- in the most arrogant, flippant, and callous way possible- Heracles had said yes, because he needed that gritty stability, needed the monogamy. Besides, there were some things he liked about him. There had to be. He had occasionally enjoyed his humor, occasionally been impressed with his fearlessness. And as time went on, Heracles developed a strange affection for Sadiq, something quiet as a whisper that was too hard to hear most days. But it slipped through sometimes. And in those rare moments, Heracles could honestly say he loved him… at least at some point in time.

Heracles could never say those words dishonestly.

But Heracles had long since moved past that disgusting phase in his life, and he no longer needed something to forcibly keep him out of it. He did not need loud, angry distractions to keep him sane. He needed quiet. He needed meaningful. Heracles needed Kiku. But he was almost certain that after today, he absolutely did not deserve him.

Heracles was either on the brink of revelation or despair when his phone vibrated against the table and shattered his train of thought. A sudden burst of energy spread through his veins, and he dove for it. Maybe it was Kiku. Maybe he could explain himself, maybe he could fix this, maybe…

_Sadiq: We need to talk NOW Heracles. And you better not fucking ignore me this time. _

And there again was the exhaustion. Despite how urgent and threatening the message sounded, Heracles set the phone back on the table without even considering responding. He did not have the energy, did not have the words. As he lay back down, two cats on his lap and five others at his feet, Heracles wondered what Sadiq was using him for. He must have an ulterior motive. Both of them must have one illegitimate reason or another for continuing this, and those selfish reasons must be the glue holding their catastrophe together.

And finally, Heracles was ready to rip it to pieces.

.

Another meaningless party, another chance to forget. Music that Sadiq had no desire to dance to thrummed through the air, air so thick with needless noise and loud voices he could barely breathe. Any sway in his stance was involuntary. Katyusha was standing before him – maybe smiling, maybe not, Sadiq could not even tell. He barely heard her say, "I have been meaning to tell you something, Sadiq."

"Oh," Sadiq slurred. He placed his cup on a nearby table only to knock it over, sending the last eighth of the contents spilling across the wood. He didn't know how many drinks he'd had. Five, ten… did it matter? Did anything really matter now? "What is it?"

Maybe Katyusha hesitated for a long while, or maybe she answered without skipping a beat. Sadiq had no idea. He was not even sure how long they had been speaking, how long he had been here. "This is a bit embarrassing," she said with a shy smile. At least Sadiq thought she was smiling. His vision was doubled and unreliable. "But I have been wanting to say this for awhile. I have… feelings for you, Sadiq."

Sadiq blinked. It seemed… abrupt, more than anything. This was the last thing he expected to hear. He and Katyusha had been talking for just a few weeks, and maybe she seemed a bit eager to be around him, maybe she was a bit touchy… Sadiq blinked again as realization set in. Then he nearly laughed, even if part of him wanted to cry. He was so blinded by Heracles that his sense of perception was totally gone. Maybe he would have been shocked if he weren't so drunk. Unsure what to do with this, he stammered, "Oh. Well, that's… oh. Okay."

"Well, do you…" Either Katyusha tilted her head or the room was spinning. "Do you feel the same?"

An answer did not come to Sadiq immediately, and this time he forced his disarrayed, unresponsive mind to work. Well, he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Katyusha's company. After all, she was gorgeous, not to mention charming and funny and kind. But did he have real feelings for her? Not like he did for Heracles. That much was clear. Something, however, was preventing him from saying no. Heracles had never even answered his messages. He was probably busy with whomever else he was screwing around with, but Katyusha was here, and she was talking to him, and earlier she had even asked if he was okay. Right now, Katyusha was everything Heracles wasn't.

So Sadiq forced a grin. "Hey, I thought that was obvious."

Katyusha giggled, flushed, and then looked away. Sadiq stumbled a bit in his stance involuntarily. Part of him wondered what can of worms he had just opened, but the majority of him just didn't care. Maybe he liked Katyusha, maybe he didn't, maybe he was doing this to spite Heracles, maybe he was just too intoxicated to worry about it. What difference did it really make? Everything was a mess and there was nothing left to do but add to it.

Sadiq resigned to the madness. With too much alcohol in his blood and too many emotions weighing down his heart, he took a messy step forward, lifted Katyusha's chin, and kissed her.

He hoped to feel something, anything other than the looming fog that had been following him around for so long. But even as Katyusha kissed Sadiq back, her lips soft on his and her unsteady hand warm on his arm, he felt… almost nothing. Nothing compared to the frustrating, all-consuming rush that engulfed his entire self when Heracles kissed him. But Sadiq did not stop. He did not pull back. Because he knew how wrong this was, knew he was worsening what was already beyond repair tenfold, and knew that somewhere else, with some other person, Heracles was doing the exact same damn thing. And evidentially, Heracles could not care less.

Sadiq refused to be the only one who cared.

When Sadiq finally pulled away, he was slightly breathless, slightly dizzy, and entirely apathetic. Words came before rational thought did. "Do you want to come with me?" he whispered against Katyusha's ear, ignoring the sick feeling in his gut that was not entirely a result of drinking.

Katyusha's mouth was slightly agape, and for the second time that night, she was blushing furiously. Sadiq guessed she had been drinking– not as much as him, not by a long shot, but regardless – and he got the feeling that had some affect on her response. She looked and sounded completely sober, but she seemed too sweet, too wholesome to agree to something like this, even if she knew none of what Sadiq had failed to mention. That showed through even as she nearly whispered, "Okay," and took Sadiq's hand.

Sadiq decided not to think about it. He was done thinking, done feeling.

Once upon a time, Heracles loved the spare bedrooms in the houses of strangers. It was how they first met, how they got together, and tonight, it was exactly what was going to end it. Tonight, it was Sadiq who found his escape in some unfamiliar bed with music pounding on somewhere on the other side of the locked door, with the wrong intentions and the wrong girl who felt right at the time.

And it did feel right, while it was happening. Everything was hazy, careless, and Sadiq could think of nothing but the physicality of it all. He fell into it, lost himself in it. All that mattered was Katyusha's smooth skin and full breasts and soft sighs. Everything was so real, so alive, and Sadiq had not felt this utterly _necessary _in what felt like a decade. After all, Katyusha kept her eyes open. It did not matter that the room was too dark and Sadiq was too lightheaded to focus on them. He felt her gaze on him, felt her presence and the way she made his pulse race, and damn all the rest.

But drunken nirvana like this could not last forever. Because Sadiq realized, sometime after he rolled onto his back and glanced over to wear Katyusha lay tangled in the sheets beside him, that that was all it was – drunken, thoughtless, and _wrong. _And there, like a bat to the side of the face, was the guilt that should have hit before things got anywhere near this far. Sadiq's blood burned with a sudden panic, regret so strong he almost expected to wake up from this dream that had ended in a nightmare. But when he closed his eyes and then opened them again, Katyusha was still there, and Sadiq was finally sober enough to realize exactly what he had done. There was no fixing this.

All he could say was, "Oh my god. Oh my _fucking god."_ The near-shout effectively shattered what could have very well been a peaceful silence if the circumstances were much, much different.

"Sadiq?" Katyusha sat up, the sheets wrapped around everything Sadiq had already seen far too much of. "Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?" The former was undeniably true while the latter was the farthest from it. She sounded nervous, almost guilty, and it only made Sadiq feel worse. Katyusha was the innocent one in all of this. She did not deserve to get mixed up in him, in his disaster. He had taken advantage of her infatuation and naivety and that was only the first crime he had unthinkingly committed.

How the hell did Heracles do this?

"No, no, it's not you, I just…" Sadiq swung his legs over the side of the bed and fumbled for his clothes, only then realizing he was still pretty drunk. But not drunk enough to lie. Sadiq was so, so sick of lying. "Oh god, I need to call my boyfriend."

Sadiq left the room as quickly as possible, leaving Katyusha and her panicked stream of questions behind.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	10. Chapter 10

Seconds after she finished her story, Katyusha hugged her pillow to her chest, and cast her eyes downward to shield herself from the horrified expressions of her friends. She knew their looks of shock and repulsion were not meant for her, but it did nothing to extinguish the fiery shame in her veins. The past few days had been the most regretful, degrading, and devastating of her life. And now it was all out in the open. Now she was left to face what should be someone else's consequences.

"You must all hate me now," she mumbled against the fabric, more matter-of-factly than anything. Then, Katyusha promptly burst into tears.

"Oh, Katya, no." It was Elizaveta who spoke, summoning the motherly tone that always came out right when it was needed. She shuffled across the pillow-littered floor and wrapped Katyusha in her arms. Katyusha abandoned the cushion she had been holding and leant gratefully into the embrace, slightly relieved but far from relaxed. "My God, what has that boy done to you?"

It was too complex a question. Katyusha had told them everything, from the beginnings of her crush on Sadiq to how she thought he reciprocated, how she believed he was a good guy and how a foolish moment of weakness had brought out the ugly truth she had never expected. The more she spoke, the more foolish she had felt. Katyusha was not this type of girl. She had always told herself she would wait for true love, that her first time would be meaningful, but when Sadiq asked her to go with him… Katyusha let out a self-critical sigh against Elizaveta's shoulder. She had not been thinking, blinded by infatuation that she desperately wanted returned. And here she was.

Katyusha had no words. Thankfully, Lilli always seemed to. "So, he had a _boyfriend _this entire time?" she asked, eyes widening. "Does anyone know who he is?"

"Does it matter?" Natalia's voice was like knives, her eyes like cold steel. Her anger read as clear as day, but even this was nothing compared to when Katyusha came home from that party panicked and in tears. It was thing kind of thing that made Katyusha intensely grateful for – if not slightly intimidated by – her little sister. "Well, I feel sympathy for him, provided he is not as vile as Sadiq."

And there, like a cold splash of water, was the guilt again. Katyusha had not known. Of course she had not known, but she could not fight the small, nagging voice that stubbornly insisted she had played an accidental part in shattering a relationship. She wondered who he was, if he knew. She wondered if Sadiq cared about any of it at all. Her guess was no. "I feel badly," she said finally, despite it all. "There must have been way I could have known. I never asked if he-"

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Katyusha. Not for a second," said Elizaveta, interrupting. The motherly tone was gone, replaced by something fierce and absolute. "Sadiq knew what he was doing. If he didn't tell you upfront, I seriously doubt he would have told you if you asked."

Katyusha sighed, wiped her eyes, then slowly nodded in reluctant agreement. Elizaveta was right, she supposed. Besides… it was over now. After a short, exhausting fling driven by nothing but deception, it was over. Unwilling to talk about herself for a moment longer, she asked, "Eliza, what would you do if Roderich-"

Elizaveta did not miss a beat. "Castrate him."

Lilli giggled. "As if he would dare to even look at anyone else."

"He _is _a guy." Natalia let her gaze rest on Lilli, only then coming the closest she ever did to smiling. "There must be reason I do not bother with them."

Katyusha smiled despite the ache in her chest. Seeing her sister happy with Lilli and knowing Elizaveta was happy with Roderich did bring her some sense of joy, even as she mulled over the destruction of her own disastrous love life. "You and Lilli are very lucky, Natalia." After a moment's pause, she added, "You too, Eliza, really…"

Katyusha broke off with a sigh. And, then again, her mind was flooded with thoughts of Sadiq. Memories, emotions, warning signs she must have missed. She stared blankly at the floor as it all fell onto her again, unforgiving like an avalanche. The memory of Sadiq's horrible words, of being left alone in that bedroom, confused and hurt, asking frantic questions that never received answers… Katyusha bit her lip to keep from crying again. "I really did believe he liked me." Even though she was sick of talking about this, sick of thinking about it, it was all she could say.

Lilli's face fell. She sighed quietly, sadly. "Oh, Katya."

Natalia scoffed. "You do not want him to like you. He is disgusting, and I have told you that from the very-"

Elizaveta spoke quickly. "What are you going to do if you see him again?"

"Well…" Katyusha nearly gave a placid response. Then she glanced towards Natalia, who was staring at her with crossed arms and firm, expectant eyes. Katyusha cleared her throat and changed her answer. "I suppose I will take my dear sister's advice and punch him." She would not actually do such a thing, but it still felt somewhat empowering to say. Katyusha managed to smile again.

"That's my girl!" Elizaveta slung her arm around Katyusha's shoulders. "There are plenty of fish in the sea, dear, and any of them would be lucky to have you."

Katyusha giggled and nearly responded, but was cut off by an unexpected voice coming from the doorway. "Why would you be wanting the attention of fish? This seems like strange thing to-" Ivan broke off with a yelp as he dodged the three pillows immediately thrown at his head. "I am sorry! I know this is girls night, but…" He held up the plate he was holding rather sheepishly. "I made cookies."

Katyusha laughed. Ivan tried, that much was certain. Her brother was ridiculous and occasionally stepped far over his bounds, but he was also one of the most caring people she had ever known, and right now, his presence was a welcome distraction. "You can come in, Ivan. I do not mind."

"Oh, yay!" Ivan walked in, sat on the edge of the bed, and set down the plate, which Lilli immediately placed in her lap. "I cannot stay long, though. I am waiting for something."

Katyusha tilted her head. "At this hour?"

"You have been pacing around all evening." Natalia raised an eyebrow, her focus on Ivan oddly perceptive. "Could it be that twenty-something year old boyfriend you believe no one knows about?"

There was a burst of laughter from the four girls, and Ivan flushed a deep red even as he shook his head insistently. "What ridiculous idea." His gaze fell the ground, eyes flicking from side to side, as if an explanation would be written somewhere on the carpet. "I am waiting for… mail to be delivered," he finished shakily. Katyusha covered her mouth with her hand. It was such a relief to smile, to laugh.

"It's after eleven at night," said Lilli, her expression still half-confused.

"Sometimes it is late." Ivan turned his attention to adjusting his scarf and quickly changed the subject. "What have you girls been talking about?"

Katyusha exchanged a look with Natalia. They had come to the unspoken agreement that they would not tell Ivan anything of this situation. After all, they had no desire the start the apocalypse. As far as he knew, Katyusha had not spoken to Sadiq since Ivan had pushed him in that pool – which she now knew, with the curse of hindsight, would have been the best path to take.

"Nothing you would be interested in, Ivan." Elizaveta smiled, the picture of innocence. "Just girl talk."

"But I am very interested! I-" But Ivan could not finish, because as he spoke, the doorbell rang. Then, he jumped from the bed as if it were spring loaded. "Oh! It is…" Ivan faltered on his words, already halfway out the room, "…the mail."

The door closed behind him, perhaps with a bit too much force, and Katyusha was left grinning. Maybe everyone in her family had better luck with romance than she did, but it was certainly amusing to watch. "Silly boy. He stills thinks we are oblivious."

"I wonder if Sadiq's boyfriend is still oblivious…" Lilli's eyes went wide, and she quickly reached for another cookie. "Sorry."

"Well, it's his mess now," said Elizaveta, flippant and airy. "Come on, we've wasted more than enough breath on him. Let's just try to have a nice time."

So, that was exactly what they did. Katyusha indulged in the warm, familiar company of her friends, her mind clearing and scars healing as the perfect night stretched on. Somewhere in the midst of the smiles and the laughter, Sadiq disappeared from her mind almost entirely. One thought, however, still managed to pass through the back of her mind.

She wondered what else Sadiq's carelessness had smashed up and destroyed.

.

Heracles stood pressed against the wall, his entire body tense, and flinched as Sadiq sent a lamp smashing against the space mere feet from his head. It was destroyed instantly. "I'm sick of your bullshit, Heracles!" He screamed the words so loudly Heracles could nearly feel them cutting into his skin. Sadiq had not laid a hand on him, at least not yet, but Heracles almost wished he would just walk across the room and silently strike him. It would probably be easier to take. "Now tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Heracles had seen Sadiq mad before. After all, it was far from uncommon. He had seen him furious, heard him yell a million times, but it had never been like this. Never had he been this violent, and never had Heracles been legitimately afraid of him. Now he could feel his hands shaking at his sides. And still, after at least ten minutes of this, Heracles had no idea what it had stemmed from. Sadiq was demanding information he simply did not have.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Heracles honestly, just barely able to force the words out from where they were stuck in his throat. "What do you want me to tell-"

"You know damn well what I mean!" Sadiq had probably said that same thing ten times, and Heracles _still _did not understand. God, why did it always take him so long to understand… "Who is it? Tell me!"

Heracles could barely breathe. This attack was the last thing he had expected when he walked in, none of it made sense, and he was still reeling from what had happened with Kiku mere days before. He finally dragged his voice from where it had been hiding. "Who… what?"

"Unless it's more than one." Sadiq exhaled through his nose and clenched teeth, like a bull ready to charge. "God, I bet you can't even remember all of their names!"

Heracles was almost too confused to feel as terrified as he should. "What are you talking about?" he asked for what felt like the millionth time. This uncertainty was unbearable. Being yelled at was one thing, fearing physical assault was another, but facing all of it for reasons he wasn't even aware of was nothing short of torture.

And finally, like a lid blowing off a boiling pot, Sadiq threw his hands wildly in front of him, his face red, and screamed an answer. "I want to know who you're fucking, Herc!" Before the words even sunk in, he kept going. "WHO are you seeing? HOW MANY PEOPLE are you seeing?"

A second ticked by in tense silence, and in that moment, nothing moved, nothing was real. Then, Heracles understood exactly what he was being accused of. The realization was so surreal he had to say it to believe it. "You think I'm cheating on you." His own words hit his ears, and Heracles found the strength to push off the wall. Confusion turned to shock just as fear gave way to anger. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

Sadiq did not answer the question. He only kept providing them, his already deafening voice growing louder, his fists white and shaking like leafs in the wind. "Who the hell is Harpocrates? And don't tell me it's your cousin, because I know that's all bullshit! How long did you plan on lying to me, Heracles? Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Over the past few days Heracles had gained some sense of perception, and just recently had he begun to realize just how bad his actions and words made him look, not to mention how wrong they actually were. He understood that if he was only more upfront with everyone from the beginning, a lot of this could have been entirely avoided. Still, the glass around his feet and the terror in his chest did not feel deserved. Heracles knew his own intentions and morals. And what Sadiq was saying did not match up.

Heracles brought the air back into his lungs, evened his gaze, and made the conscious decision to be nothing but honest and straightforward from now on. "That is the name I use for my friend, Kiku." The word felt wrong on his lips and sent a shock into his heart. _Friend… _could he even say that anymore? They had not even spoken since… Heracles shook his head slightly, forced the thought away, and went on. "I told you he was my cousin because I knew you would yell at me like this if you knew. You hate when I talk to anyone else, Sadiq."

Silence. For once, the room was filled with it. Sadiq's chest visibly rose and fell with every heavy breath he took. Though his eyes remained locked on Heracles, his face twisted and his jaw tensed. It looked either contemplative or conflicted. When he spoke, it was a low growl rather than a shout. "You know exactly why that is."

Heracles's stomach dropped to his feet. He never thought, after all this time, that that period in his life would be thrown back in his face. It was a deliberate shot below the belt, but he refused to let that show in his eyes. "That has nothing to do with this." He held Sadiq's fiery gaze, no matter how much he wanted to look away. "I have never been unfaithful to someone I'm committed to. Not once." That was the pure, undiluted truth. No matter how Heracles had acted in the past, he always had morals he would rather die than abandon. Besides, if he did, he would probably die of shame regardless.

For once, Sadiq did not throw out an angry response right away. Instead he loosened his fists, closed his eyes like it hurt, and brought a shaking hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His nostrils flared as he took another hard breath. Heracles only stared at him, confused yet again. Sadiq looked as if he had just received bad news. Heracles even got the feeling he believed him, but for whatever reason, it was physically painful for him to do it.

Heracles disregarded it. This whole situation was ridiculous, infuriating, and it was high time he took a shot of his own. "If anyone is likely to cheat, it would be you."

Sadiq suddenly dropped his hand and opened his eyes. His face was no longer scarlet with rage, nor pinched in pain, but rather white with what looked to be shock… or guilt.

Heracles could not believe it. He did not _want _to believe it. For once he understood immediately, and with that understanding came the revival of his temper from where it had long since lay dormant. "Sadiq." He said his name as a statement, low and controlled, though he could physically feel his resolve slipping like water down a hill. "Are you cheating on me, Sadiq?"

Sadiq glared at the floor. "I was positive you were."

Something dangerously close to rage bubbled in Heracles's chest. He could only repeat himself. "Are you cheating on me?"

Sadiq opened his mouth, but said nothing. For someone who was atrociously loud every other moment in his life, it seemed strange that he was at a sudden, disgusting loss for words. What an interesting time for him to be silent, Heracles thought through the screams in his head. An eternity passed before Sadiq could manage so much as a mumble. "It was one time. I was drunk. What does it matter?" He spoke as if it was meant to sound apathetic, but the crack in his voice and the strange flash in his eyes overshadowed the intention.

Everything was very rapidly turning red. Heracles struggled to keep his hands loose and his words quiet. "When? Who?" he asked as if he was making dinner plans.

"At a party. Couple days ago." Heracles's head snapped up at the answer, and Sadiq immediately turned his. "This girl Katyusha." He stumbled over her name, as if he respected it too much to say it in this context. Heracles could only guess when Sadiq held that same amount of respect for him.

Hot anger crawled up his throat, something finally broke, and Heracles spoke louder than he had in what could very well be years. "What is _wrong _with you?"

"What's wrong with _you?" _Sadiq shouted back immediately. He took a thundering step forward, barging directly into Heracles's personal space, and Heracles utilized every bit of self control he had left to keep from shoving him away. "Do you seriously blame me for assuming? You never talk to me, you hide shit from me… what else was I supposed to think? I only did what you made damn sure I thought you were doing!"

Heracles was hardly surprised. Sadiq always had a way of shifting the blame. This time, however, he refused to allow that to happen. "I never was. You were the only one."

"Maybe I don't believe you." Sadiq had abruptly stopped screaming. His voice dipped into something sinister, underhanded, and downright accusatory. It was like he was attempting to weaponize his words. Without warning, he succeeded. "When I met you, Herc, you would fuck _anyone." _

No. Not this again. Heracles had to fight through the painful knots in his stomach in order to say, "That is irrelevant."

"No, no it isn't." Sadiq nearly laughed at that, some strained, humorless sound that could barely pass as sane. Heracles pressed himself so far against the wall his back started to hurt. "How many people was it again? Ten? Twenty? No, let me guess, you lost count. What difference would another one make?"

Heracles could not decide what upset him more – that Sadiq had still managed to turn this on him, or that he was allowing it to happen. But Heracles was powerless now. His breathing was turning erratic, his throat felt close to closing, and past shame suddenly felt new and relevant. He had told Sadiq all of this in confidence. Now he had the gall, the absolute shamelessness, to use it as ammo when Heracles was still reeling from all he had already thrown at him. His eyes stung, and he had to look away as he forced out the few words he had left. "Shut up."

But the verbal assault just kept on going. "And you were so young." Sadiq lifted his chin and looked down his nose. "How old was that one guy, Heracles? Remind me."

The ground was beginning to feel unsteady beneath Heracles's feet. His stomach lurched as memory hit, and for a split second, he almost felt as small and empty and hopeless as he once had. In a desperate attempt to ward it off, Heracles hardened his gaze into a furious glare and raised his voice. "I said _shut up, _Sadiq!"

Sadiq went on as if Heracles had actually answered. "And you let him do whatever he wanted."

"SHUT UP!"

"So of course I assumed." Then Sadiq stepped forward again, so close their chests were nearly touching, and Heracles could not move back any farther. He was dizzy, sick, he wanted to move, but Sadiq grabbed his side, leant close to his ear, and whispered, like dripping venom, "Nothing is below you, Heracles, and your mother would be ashamed of you."

Heracles clamped his fingers into his palm, lifted his fist, and swung.

Sadiq swung back.

It was a long time coming. What followed was two years worth of resentment, frustration, and anger that could not be expressed through words alone, no matter how loud, in one long-overdue explosion. It could only be expressed through flying punches, kicks, broken furniture and broken skin. Heracles felt nothing – not Sadiq's hands gasping his collar, not his back hitting the wall or the floor, not his own fists striking Sadiq wherever he could. The bruises and split lip and leftover glass scratching his skin meant nothing. Two years, and none of this had ever meant anything.

It passed in a fiery, bloody, thoughtless haze. Never in his life had Heracles been so ready to inflict pain on another. Then again, no one had ever been so willing to continuously do the same to him. Before Heracles even understood what was going on, his knees were on Sadiq's chest, his fist was suspended in the air, and he was seconds from doing it again. Then Sadiq grasped his trembling hand.

Slowly, painfully, everything came back into focus. Then there was nothing but heavy breathing, throbbing injuries, and shock. Neither said a word. When Sadiq looked up and finally met Heracles's eyes, his were bleary, conflicted, and it did not look to be entirely out of physical pain. Heracles let his hand fall loose, and Sadiq carefully wove his fingers through his. It read almost as a plea. He did not speak, did not make an attempt to move, only shook his head and mouthed a word Heracles knew he could never say aloud: _Sorry. _But Heracles had probably imagined it.

"We…" Heracles began, but did not finish. He pieced his torn mind together as he pulled his hand away and wiped the blood from his mouth. Finally, after all the stalling and all the needless pain, it was time. "We cannot keep doing this."

Sadiq did nothing to acknowledge it, but Heracles knew they both understood. After too long of a moment, he stood. Ignoring the pain he was suddenly aware of, he limped away from the room, away from the house, and away from Sadiq. This time, it was for good.

Now there was only one place that could soothe this pain, both on the surface and far beneath it.

.

Heracles knew he had no business being here, but the events of the afternoon had destroyed his will to stay away. As he stood on the doorstep, fully aware of how pathetic he must have looked, he remembered the first time he had stood in this same spot. Remembered how nervous he had been. Compared to what he was feeling now, it seemed almost shamefully petty. But unlike the first time, he had no urge to run away. Being anywhere else would only make him feel worse.

Heracles swallowed his pride, suppressed his nerves with a breath, and knocked.

The door opened within a minute. Kiku looked up, tensed, and took in Heracles with a short gasp and a widening of the eyes. Heracles wondered what it was truly a reaction to – his pitiful appearance, or his presence in general. "It… really was a fight this time," he said, finding greetings somehow inappropriate. Heracles lifted a hand to self-consciously run his fingers over the split in his lip from where Sadiq had elbowed him. "Do you perhaps have any peroxide?"

Kiku blinked. His shock faded into something closer to thinly veiled annoyance, and after a short, contemplative moment of staring, he flicked his head towards the inside of the house and walked in the same direction.

Heracles hesitated before following, feeling a bit like a helpless stray cat. He knew this was out of nothing other than common decency. Still, he could not but feel a brief warmth in his chest, because after all he had put him through, Kiku was still willing to help him. "Thank you," he said.

Kiku barely looked at him.

In fact, Kiku barely looked at Heracles throughout the entire process – not when he motioned for him to sit in a kitchen chair, not when he returned with a first aid kit, not when he tore open Band-Aids as if they personally offended him and pressed them to the scratches on Heracles's arms like he did, too. Heracles did not allow himself to flinch. He sat perfectly still, guilt in his stomach and his pulse in his ears.

Kiku performed each task with machine-like precision and detachment, none of it suggesting he wanted the details behind this. Still, Heracles felt a need to explain himself, and the silence was growing unbearable. "It was Sadiq." Kiku rubbed at the cut he was cleaning with more vigor, and Heracles quickly moved on. "Some things were said, and we both got angry. But I guess what really started it was…" Heracles broke off and finished in a whisper. "He cheated on me."

It felt like a lie, even though it was exactly the opposite. Sadiq had made no attempts to deny his infidelity, but regardless, Heracles was still having trouble believing it had actually happened. No matter how long things had been going south, the betrayal still felt like an unexpected knife in the back, salt on the wound that had been open for ages. Heracles had yet to rid himself of the sick feeling in his gut.

At that, Kiku froze. His stone-cold expression faltered just long enough for Heracles to detect something close to sympathy in his eyes, but before he could even be sure it was there, Kiku shook his head and continued his robotic first-aid.

But even that was comforting, because Kiku was still here, still tending to Heracles when he needed it the most. That alone made him feel strangely safe despite how callous it was at the moment, warm even as he used his free hand to press a bag of ice to his black eye. Heracles could not deny that. Now that he thought about it, actually, there was simply no reason for denial anymore. He could feel however he wanted now. More importantly, no amount of denial would fix anything.

"It is done with him, obviously." Heracles was not sure what he was trying to gain with the words. After all, it was not as if he expected Kiku to still like him– even platonically. Maybe he said it only because a part of him still did not believe it. After wanting it to end for so long, he thought he would feel at least a little bit relieved.

But when Kiku barely nodded, the way someone would to acknowledge someone they had no interest in seeing, Heracles only felt conflicted and alone.

Perhaps it was best to change the subject. "Is your brother around?" he asked, making an attempt at sounding casual that he hoped was successful.

Kiku shook his head, still without lifting his eyes, and Heracles was strangely relieved. If Kiku had told Yao anything, Heracles could guess he was not thrilled with him either. Really, was there anyone left who was? Kiku, Yao, Sadiq, maybe even Stelios at this point… they were all disgusted with him now. Heracles could not say he felt any differently about himself.

Heracles sighed, having grown tired of acting unaffected. He spotted a paper napkin on the table and reached for it. It was not the best, but it was better than nothing. "Maybe it would be beneficial to… talk about this… or something." Heracles stumbled over the words. Speaking seemed much more complicated now, when so much was at stake.

Without even a moment's hesitation, Kiku reached into his pocket, turned it inside out, and then shrugged before pushing it back in.

It took a moment to click. Kiku was not carrying a pen, and that did not seem to be coincidental. Heracles could hardly believe it… Kiku had found a way to give him the silent treatment.

Taking that into account, Heracles began to wonder if Kiku would ever forgive him. There was no real reason why he would, but Heracles did not want to believe he truly had no left in this world, so he asked what he was not sure he wanted answered. "Do you hate me?"

The last Band-Aid went on, and Kiku released Heracles's arm. Warmth and safety disappeared. Heracles sat perfectly still and waited – for Kiku to shake his head, to nod, to glare at him, to smile. For any kind of response he could learn to accept. But instead, Kiku simply surveyed his work as if Heracles and his injuries were an art project, turned, and started to walk away. That hurt worse than anything Sadiq had said or done.

But Heracles knew, somewhere beyond his selfish, undeserved grief, that this was nothing compared to the pain he had caused Kiku by dragging him into his own problems and chaos. He had panicked him more than once, lied to him through omission and otherwise, lead him on, shot him down and left him humiliated right after he finally allowed himself to let his guard down… Heracles was hit with the sudden, somber realization that he had earned this ending.

What had even given him the idea that he deserved to be here?

"He was right," whispered Heracles from where he sat, either unwilling or unable to move. He was not sure if he expected or even wanted Kiku to hear him. The words passed his lips on their own accord. "My mother _would_ be ashamed of me."

Kiku was halfway down the hall already, but right as Heracles finished his sentence, he stopped in his tracks and turned. Despite everything, he looked Heracles in the eyes and shook his head. It was enough to momentarily soothe Heracles's conflicted heart as it screamed. Kiku must have heard. Must have cared. Of course… Kiku always listened, was always compassionate. He did not have it in him to be coldhearted or cruel, even when it was completely, undeniably deserved. Heracles felt the tiniest bit better, even as Kiku turned back around and walked out of his sight for what was possibly the last time.

Kiku really was more than Heracles could ever hope to deserve.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a week. One week, and Heracles already felt trapped in a cycle more exhausting than the last.

Even as the purple bruise under his eye faded into a sickly yellow and all but the deepest scratches on his arms healed over, every fiery look, biting word, and swift punch hurt just as it did when it was first inflicted. The wounds reopened every time that horrid afternoon played over again in his head, and Heracles was sick of feelings the effects. But no matter how much everything Sadiq had thrown at him hurt, nothing hurt quite as intensely as the utter lack of anything from Kiku. Perhaps it was it good indicator of where his priorities had lay for longer than he cared to admit.

For those seven days that felt a lot closer to seven years, Heracles alternated between wallowing in his own dejection and… waiting. Waiting for something to change, waiting for a solution to hit him over the head, waiting to forget and move on. Of course, none of that happened. The latter was the most impossible of the bunch, and Heracles was reminded of that the few times he saw Kiku at school. It was the same each time – they would lock eyes, Kiku would look away as if Heracles's gaze was poisonous, and then immediately get far, far away from him. It was by far the loudest silence Heracles had ever been subjected to.

All that broke that heavy, mocking silence was the occasional buzz of Heracles's phone; always alerting him of messages he had received from the wrong person.

That did not stop him from getting his hopes up every time.

The moment Heracles heard his phone go off, he pried himself from his near-permanent spot on the couch and grappled for it like it was water in the desert. He opened the message, no air in his lungs, only to have it all rush back in a sigh of disappointment.

_Sadiq: Shit, Herc, is your face okay? I saw you today and it still looked bad_

At this point, Heracles was not even surprised. Sadiq had been insistently sending him messages since the day after the fact, and each had been left unanswered and sitting on the screen, mocking him. It did not help that nearly every one read as shameless sarcasm. Heracles of course did not respond to this one either, but that did not stop Sadiq from pressing on.

_Sadiq: Will you talk to me at least? That was such a shitty way to end it_

Upon reading that one, Heracles nearly laughed. He wondered what the words were even in reference to. What had ended it, really? Was it the first punch, the last? Had he had the decency to consider it finished the second Sadiq brought up his past? No… the reality of the matter was it had been over before it even started. Their entire relationship had been founded on quicksand, doomed to end terribly from the very beginning. Heracles sighed heavily, leant back into his little nest of pillows and cats, and tried to do what he was likely the best at – sleep.

And he managed, if just barely. However, his temporary relief was shattered barely half an hour later when he was awoken by yet another wave of obnoxious buzzing. Heracles wondered why he had not turned the blasted thing off by now. Maybe a small, vain part of him liked knowing there was someone still thinking about him. He blinked away the thought along with the sleep in his eyes and focused on the screen.

_Sadiq: whatever i still caree abot you_

_Sadiq: god u dont get it_

And finally, for once, Heracles agreed with Sadiq on something. He did not 'get it.' He did not understand how, after ending things with him in the messiest, most barbaric way possible, he was still running around in circles. He did not understand why Sadiq was trying now after two years of doing the opposite. It seemed so suddenly out of character, so utterly _random. _But, in some strange way, it felt almost familiar.

Then Heracles stared for the screen a second longer, made note of the grammar, and came to the fairly obvious conclusion – Sadiq was drinking again. Of course… he would never be able to pass for affectionate otherwise. Heracles let out a frustrated sigh. This had only gotten to be a reoccurring issue recently, and it already sickened him. He could only wonder why Sadiq was acting like such a fool – even more so than before. Maybe he did not want an answer, but his drunken, falsely affectionate lies were flies buzzing around Heracles's head, driving him to the brink of insanity even after he was sure he swatted them away. Why was he even dealing with this right now? Sadiq was no longer tied to him; these problems were no longer his to bear.

This needed to end. Heracles picked up the phone again, and after a moment's consideration, typed out a response against his better judgment. Perhaps it was too philosophical a message for someone who would not even read it sober, but Heracles could not find any other way to put it.

_Please, leave me alone. I have no respect for men who can only be decent to others when they're halfway through a bottle. _

Then he flipped the ringer on silent and shoved the phone deep in his pocket, something akin to finality in the action. Out of sight, out of mind, he supposed.

There must have been some truth in that phrase. The afternoon faded into the evening, and with each passing hour, Heracles thought less of Sadiq. Perhaps he was simply over the entire situation. A far better explanation would be that his mind was too crowded with thoughts of Kiku to think about anything or anyone else. He supposed he should do something, unless he wanted this to haunt him forever… but what? Approach Kiku at school again – and watch him disappear into a crowd of noise. Write him a letter, much like he had for Heracles – and pray he would even bother to read it. Turn up at his door – and hope he didn't slam it in his face. It was another game of Russian roulette, and Heracles was disturbingly unwilling to release the gun.

Heracles felt his stomach turn. He was not used to feeling this much, caring this much. It was as if his entire life had been in black and white, and the moment he met Kiku, everything turned suddenly, violently, to brilliant color. Everything else got lost in the shadows. It was strange. It was tiring. It sent his stomach twisting into unfamiliar knots, his heart beating at an unfamiliar pace, and left and head bogged down with unfamiliar worry.

Finally, Heracles realized… it was because nothing had ever mattered quite like Kiku. And he doubted anything ever would again.

Heracles finally sat up. He had made plenty of mistakes, but he was not about to allow these breathtaking weeks become nothing but another one. He had to stop waiting, get out of his head, and do something. That something had to matter just as much as Kiku did. He was not sure what that thing was, or even if it existed, but he had to do it now.

Before it was too late.

.

Kiku had been sitting in complete silence for so long he was sure he had forgotten how to hear. That was, strangely enough, until the tapping started. At first he thought his numb, disheartened mood was causing him to hallucinate. But the tapping kept coming, kept beating into his ears, and Kiku had not choice but to drag himself from his bed and make his way to the window it was coming from.

The sky was filled with stars. Kiku gazed out into the night, wondering what time it was, wondering what had woke him if he had even slept at all. Silence fell over him again, save for the faint chirping of crickets. The tree by the window shook with a gust of wind. Kiku waited, watched, and listened. Something akin to anticipation thrummed in his chest, but nothing happened… not until a pebble hit the glass.

Anticipation grew, and Kiku looked down. Then, his eyes widened, his head went light, and his thoughts turned unbelieving and confused. Standing in the dark was a figure; a handful of small rocks in one hand, and in the other… a cat. Kiku could hardly believe this. For a moment, he was sure this was nothing but a strange, fleeting dream he would immerge from at any given moment. But when the silence was finally broken, reality came rushing in.

"Kiku?" Heracles spoke just loud enough to be heard, sounding no less confused than Kiku felt. He looked up to meet Kiku's incredulous eyes, shifted uncomfortably in his stance, and dropped the pebbles in his hand. "Um, hello." Heracles took a sudden interest in the damp grass beneath his feet. "This is probably strange. I saw it in some American film, and I…wanted to see you, and…" He shifted the cat to rest in both his arms, and then sighed resignedly. He looked suddenly embarrassed and regretful. "I should go."

Kiku immediately shook his head and held out his hand. Despite all that had happened and how badly he had been hurt, he simply could not shoo Heracles away and go back to bed. How could he, when Heracles was standing under his window, looking lost, and holding a cat, all because of an idea he got from some terrible movie? It was all very _Heracles, _somehow. Kiku was blindsided and slightly wary, but in some strange way, he was not terribly surprised. He was not particularly surprised to find himself smiling as he rushed downstairs and out the door, either.

It was a cool, quiet night. Kiku could feel his heart beating in his chest as he padded around the side of his house, his smile falling under the weight of his nerves, nothing but the gusting wind and his footsteps in the grass to break up the silence. He asked himself if this was a good idea. He wondered if it was worth it. But when Kiku reached the backyard, his doubt quieted down.

Heracles was standing perfectly still, his silhouette glowing under the light of the moon, the breeze blowing his hair around his shoulders. He was entirely focused on the cat – seemingly out of nerves, something Kiku was not used to seeing on his face – and Kiku realized he had not seen this one before. But he paid almost no attention to it. Kiku continued to walk, and it felt like an eternity passed before he was standing in front of him. He hoped his neutral expression had not been overshadowed by the unforgiving swirl of emotion in his head.

When Heracles smiled at the ground, it looked forced. When he spoke, his calm tone sounded the same. "I'm sorry it's so late." He did not look up, did not move an inch, did not even seem to breathe. Eventually, he motioned to the cat with the tiniest nod. "Another one showed up the other day. She is very cute, but they are beginning to overrun my house." He paused, and after a moment's consideration, extended his arms. "You mentioned wanting a cat once."

Kiku blinked, froze, and then he could not help it… he smiled again. It was the middle of the night, they had not acknowledged each other in a week, and this boy was attempting to give him a cat. The best part was almost to be expected from him. Heracles had never known how to act, what to say. He always ended up doing something ridiculous. More importantly… he always cared enough to do it. Kiku felt a brief warmth, nodded in thanks, and took the little creature into his arms. After all, he _had_ always wanted a cat.

"What will you name her? You were always the best with names," said Heracles as if nothing about this was unusual, as if the tension was not thick enough to physically feel.

Kiku had an answer, but no way to vocalize it. But he was used to that. He was also used to improvising. So, as Heracles looked on in careful bewilderment, Kiku knelt down, set the cat beside him, and used the fallen pebbles to spell her new name. _H-e-b-e. _

"Hebe," whispered Heracles. A second passed, a lifetime passed, and finally his face lit up in dazed understanding. "The goddess of youth…" His words dissolved in the night air. Then slowly, carefully, he sat down beside Kiku and finished in a breath, "…and forgiveness."

With that, there was no need for words anymore. Apologies were already taken care of. Kiku knew Heracles was remorseful for keeping such a big part of his life from him, knew he had only rejected him as a last ditch attempt at decency, knew Heracles really did care for him like no one besides his own brother ever had. It was hard to accept at first, but Kiku saw in his eyes, his heart. He could hear it even in the silence. Heracles lifted his hand, shattering the space between them that had been there for too long. Kiku took it immediately. An unspoken resolution.

And with that simple, everyday action, things suddenly felt more _right_ than he ever had in Kiku's life. It was as if that heart-shattering day in front of this house and the week of emotional chaos that followed it had never happened. As if the years of torture he had endured were erased and gone for good. Or perhaps he would always be faintly aware of that time period… and moments like these just made all of it feel irrelevant. With Heracles finally, finally holding his hand, Kiku could not think or worry about anything else – not even his flushed face or pounding heart.

It felt like hours passed in complete serenity. Kiku lay next to Heracles in the dewy grass, hands joined like they were simply meant to be that way, Hebe wandering in circles around them like a living peace treaty. Occasionally Heracles would point out one of the constellations, other times explaining what god or goddess each planet was named after. He smiled as he spoke, and Kiku's heart melted every time he saw it. Never had he felt less self conscious about not speaking. This odd, unexpected, wonderful night felt as endless as the sky above them. But of course something had to intrude on it.

Heracles was halfway through explaining a legend when his phone starting ringing at a deafeningly loud volume. It was not until then that Kiku remembered the world existed beyond this spot and this moment. He blinked away his concentration, a bit disappointed with reality, and listened to Heracles speak with far less passion. "Oh, sorry, I thought I had turned this off…" Heracles reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. His expression was blank, but when he looked down at the screen, it switched to a tight scowl. He spoke as if he was in pain. "It's him."

Kiku understood immediately. He understood, but at the same time, he felt a bit taken aback. He had known Heracles and this Sadiq person had had a rocky relationship. But he had not known it was _this _bad. Heracles was staring at the phone as if to dare it to continue ringing, his shoulders tense, and his quiet composure gone like it had never existed. He was a completely different person… one Kiku was not sure he liked.

"I won't even dignify this with a response." Heracles nearly powered the phone off, and Kiku should have been relieved, but instead he found himself reaching out to stop him from hanging up. Yao had always said nothing good could come from phone calls after nine. They meant urgency, he had always told him. They always meant someone was hurt, dying, or already dead. And Kiku did not want Heracles to take that chance.

"You want me to answer?" Heracles sounded incredulous, though not as annoyed as he had looked a moment ago. Kiku nodded firmly, though he was not exactly sure why, and Heracles simply shrugged. "Well, alright." He threw the phone a borderline distrustful glance before pressing a button and bringing it to his ear. Heracles did not say hello, instead only muttering, "What, Sadiq?"

Kiku felt the urge to leave him privacy, but Heracles's firm grip on his hand gave him the idea he wanted him to stay. So that was what Kiku did. He stayed exactly where he was, tracing circles on the back of Heracles's hand with his thumb in a way he hoped was calming, and listened to what he felt he was not supposed to hear. Heracles alternated between speaking in loops, sighing in frustration as he listened to what sounded like the same thing each time, and starting the cycle over and over and again. It felt like it lasted a year. Then Kiku reminded himself Heracles had endured it for two.

"Sadiq, I cannot understand you. You're drunk. You are _always _drunk, I-" Heracles broke off into a confused silence, one out of dozens, and for a split second he stopped scowling. He had been going in circles for ages, and this was the first time he had done _that._ His eyes even flashed strangely… then he just shook his head and raised his voice again. "You do not mean that. You- No… no, stop, you don't."

Kiku felt the grip on his hand tighten, and he doubted Heracles even realized he had done it. He looked far too absorbed in his head shaking and sputtering fits of denial. "You are not making sense. Look, Sadiq, please just go to bed. You will feel better in the morning – no, what?" Heracles tripped over the last words in a panic. Then, he closed his eyes and took a breath as if to stop himself from thinking… something. "You are drunk. You are very, very drunk." Oddly enough, that sounded like it was not entirely meant for Sadiq. It also sounded very final. Heracles shook his head again, violently, and tightened his grip nearly to the point of pain. Kiku refused to flinch, even as Heracles spat, "Go to bed. I'm hanging up."

Heracles hung up the phone and threw it down. This time, however, it did not look to be out of annoyance. He tossed the phone into grass as if he was sure it would hurt him otherwise. And if Kiku understood one thing, fully comprehended only a single concept in the entire world, it was fear. Right now, it hung over Heracles like a cloud. Kiku wanted desperately to open his mouth and ask what was wrong… what a luxury that would be. Instead he only continued to hold his hand.

"That was… interesting," breathed Heracles in the direction he was staring. Despite having gone on about constellations less than an hour before, he was now looking at the stars as if they did not make sense to him. Then he smiled. Heracles was, despite how quickly he had cycled through nervousness and serenity and anger in the past hours, suddenly happy in a way that would make children look pessimistic. That was just unsettling. "I apologize for that. Drunken nonsense, all of it." He spoke as happily as he looked, but the darkness in his eyes and the slight twitch in his grin said otherwise.

Kiku got the feeling they were dropping something that really should not be dropped, but for the sake of both of them decided not to question it. Not like he could.

"What was I telling you about again? Was it Plato's theory of soulmates?" Heracles had actually been explaining why Neptune had been named after Poseidon, a different field entirely, but Kiku nodded anyway. Heracles seemed for distraction, and he was not about to deny him of that. Heracles ended up doing it himself. "Actually… that's alright. I will tell you another day."

Silence seemed necessary, after all that commotion. Kiku nodded. Then he shivered, involuntarily, as a strong gust of wind whipped through the air.

"It has gotten cold."

Kiku nodded again. He was not sure what he expected Heracles to follow that with, but he did not anticipate Heracles to reach an arm around his waist and pull him close. Kiku gasped out of reflex, and Heracles froze.

"Should I not?"

Kiku began to overthink things again. He had slipped through several layers of comfort over the past weeks, seamlessly. First being touched was level with being stabbed, then he questioned why he always felt that way, and now he wondered where that wariness had gone. He had walls around him for a long time, for good reason. But this… this was fine, he decided, on a whim for once. It was fine because he allowed it to be. The thought was empowering. In place of an empty nod of shake of the head, Kiku scooted closer, pressed himself against Heracles's side, and laid his head against his shoulder. Then the freezing air was gone, and Kiku could only feel the warmth of him, the security of him, could only hear the suspiciously fast beat of Heracles's heart through his soft white t-shirt. Yes, this was fine. Perhaps it was something more.

Heracles sighed softly in place of words, then took Kiku's hand again with his free one. Kiku probably should have felt nervous. He didn't. In fact, he could not remember ever feeling this relaxed, this content, this… safe, in his entire life.

.

Sadiq did not know what else he could do.

Why he had bothered calling was still a mystery. He was sick of this, sick of thinking about and dealing with it, yet he kept throwing himself back into these situations as if he was addicted to the inevitable pain it caused. Maybe he truly was a masochist, or maybe he had still thought the right combination of words existed that could fix this. He and Heracles had beat each other down and built each other back up countless times, all through the use of words or lack for thereof; surely it could happen one more time.

It was only now, that the phone was lying uselessly on the ground, that Sadiq was beginning to realize that really wouldn't happen.

After he resigned to the fact that Heracles really had hung up on him he cupped his whirling head in his hands, an attempt to get a grip on his thoughts or perhaps simply to steady himself. Sadiq was dizzy. He was sick. He remembered almost none of what he had said. He vaguely remembered telling Heracles he wanted to see him, wanted to talk, that he needed him, because what was the point of hiding it anymore? He definitely remembered Heracles telling him over and over again that was he drunk, as if he wasn't aware, as if that invalidated everything. Fine, Sadiq _was_ drunk. He was so drunk he could not see straight or speak coherently or really even stand. That didn't mean he couldn't feel, did it?

In fact the drink only intensified every emotion. That was just what it did to him, as he had recently learned and now could not escape. Sadiq felt everything at once – confusion, despair, anger… fear. Definitely fear. For once he could admit to it. Fear because he was drowning, reaching desperately for a surface that no longer existed, slapping frantically and pathetically at the water as if it would save him from inevitably being sucked far below the surface and into his watery grave.

So, just as a drowning man would, Sadiq panicked.

He stared at the phone mocking him from the floor through his doubling vision, listened to the screech of the dial tone, breathing too hard and too fast but at the same time not at all, and wondered how he had managed to dig himself so deep into this hole. He wondered how long he had been in it in the first place. He wondered, but at the same time he didn't, because he had lost his head five drinks ago, the room was spinning, the damn phone was still ringing or buzzing or whatever; when he finally stopped to think he had no idea what was going on. All he knew was Heracles had hung up on him. Had he? How long ago? How drunk _was _he?

What could he do?

What could he do, what could he do… the words became a mantra before Sadiq even understood them. He tried to think, tried to breathe, but commanding himself to do so only made both tasks harder. Eventually he managed a coherent thought, then two. Eventually he almost had a plan. Through all the screaming they had been doing, Sadiq remembered hearing crickets on the other line. He had heard wind. That meant Heracles was outside… somewhere. He was outside, somewhere. Sadiq could find him somewhere. He could, he had to, he had to do it now and damn everything else.

Sadiq was not exactly sure what led him to his car. The fact that he had managed to walk to the garage was near miracle in itself. Perhaps it was desperation that allowed him to do it, or that stubborn fear that was attacking him. He had mentioned to Heracles he would go to him if he kept ignoring him; even Sadiq had thought that was an empty threat. Now it was necessary.

It took three tries to get the key in the ignition, five more to turn it. _What are you doing, _a small voice in his head demanded as the engine roared to life, _stop it. _But the small voice was drowned out by a much louder shriek, one that told him he _needed _to do this because he _needed _Heracles because goddammit he loved him for some ridiculous reason and this was his last chance.

Sadiq used the thought as fuel as he tore out onto the darkened road.

The streets were deserted at this hour, thankfully, but then again Sadiq could not really see anything. The two lanes blurred into four and then six. The tree branches hung oppressively low, shaking and spinning and he raced past them. Sadiq was all over the road, lost in the darkness… which lane was the correct one again? Where did he turn? In fact, where was he going? Heracles was outside, somewhere, for some reason… but where? Why? What was Sadiq doing, and which petal was which? Why did none of these questions have answers?

Despair rose in Sadiq's chest so suddenly and violently that for a second it was able to overcome his drunken haze. He realized, somehow, through the absolute mutiny in his head, that this was pointless. Everything was pointless. Great, even his own mind was working against him now, he… he was tired of this. Truly, completely tired of this, of everything. Red-hot tears blurred his vision further.

Sadiq made it to the highway. Maybe 'made it' was not the right term… he had not meant to get there. Heracles's house was nowhere near it, anyway… it was more that he found himself there. Found himself swerving more, found that his hands was slipping, found that he cared less and less as hope went down and his speedometer only went up. Everything was too fast, where were the brakes, where was Heracles, he wanted, he needed, he just, he didn't…

Finally, he realized. This confusion, this pain, this endless cycle of it… it was all things were ever going to be because Sadiq was himself. It was not the situation he was tired of; it was his own person. He was sick of himself and just didn't want to live.

Sadiq gripped the wheel and the decision was made. He leaned his entire weight, his entire existence on the gas, closed his eyes, and swerved.

In the sudden darkness, he saw light. In the searing pain, he felt relief. And in the sound of tires squealing, glass shattering, and screams that he eventually realized were his own, Sadiq heard angels.

Then, finally… silence.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12

The halls were buzzing.

Monday morning, Heracles could not fight the feeling that something was wrong. He tried to ignore the intrusive paranoia, because it was probably ridiculous and misplaced, but the vague feeling of wrongness followed his every step. Everyone around him seemed to be mumbling in hushed tones rather than laughing and shouting like they usually did, grouped together in huddles, a few glancing at him warily as he walked past. Quiet like this would usually be relieving; now it was just unsettling. It was as if everyone in this building knew something he didn't.

The only person who looked just as clueless as Heracles was Kiku, who was walking next to him and mirroring his look of thinly veiled suspicion. "This… seems odd you too, right?" asked Heracles as he leaned against his locker. They had a few minutes to kill before class, which meant a few minutes of standing in… whatever this was. Something akin to impending doom crept up Heracles's spin. He ignored it.

Kiku surveyed the hall, furrowed his brow, then looked to Heracles and nodded. Well, at least he was not alone in this feeling.

Heracles turned to Kiku and nearly said something, anything to distract the both of them from this surreal moment, but he did not end up having that luxury. Heracles felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned again to see a girl standing before him. She was staring at him through unbelieving blue eyes, as if Heracles was some creature from a legend come to life. "Um, hello. Are you Heracles?" Her voice was soft and nervous, the accent close to Russian.

Heracles nodded. "I am, yes." He took a moment to survey this girl – her short blonde hair, her soft features, the way she wrung her hands together – and searched for some semblance of familiarity. When Heracles found nothing he recognized, he added, "I do not believe we've met."

"I do not believe so either. You may know me, though…" She adverted her eyes, and Heracles noted she looked almost worrisomely pale. She shifted her weight continuously as she spoke. "My name is Katyusha."

It took a moment to click. _This girl Katyusha… _Heracles blinked, a bit shocked. So this was the girl. He had always know she had existed, but seeing her here, standing in front of him and speaking to him, made everything feel uncomfortably real and reopened every wound Sadiq had inflicted on him. He was not angry – not with her, at least. Rather Heracles felt sympathetic and strangely guilty, as if he was to blame for what Sadiq had done to the both of them. Katyusha seemed sweet, if first impressions were anything to go off of. Too sweet to be mixed up in this.

"Oh." There was nothing else to say. He wondered how much she knew, how much she had figured out.

"You… know Sadiq, right?" Katyusha tripped over the words as if she was not sure how to phrase it. She flushed as she spoke, and Heracles immediately knew that both of them understood what they had to do with each other.

"Yes. And… you do, too." The words felt awkward on his lips. Everything about this was awkward, actually, not to mention sudden and unexpected. Heracles glanced to his side to see Kiku had taken on an awestruck expression. He must have understood just as well.

Katyusha nodded, the act reluctant. Then Heracles was not sure what to say or do. He wondered why Katyusha had sought him out, what the purpose of this moment was. Had she approached him simply to prove her existence? It seemed unlikely at best and downright bizarre at worst. Still, he felt the undeniable, pressing need to say what had been sitting on his conscious since Sadiq had first spoken her name. So Heracles took a breath and said it. "I'm sorry for everything he put you through."

"Oh." Katyusha blinked rapidly, stunned rather than nervous for a moment, and Heracles could not say he blamed her. That had been a bit out of the blue, but at least it was out in the open now. Katyusha's eyes faded from bewildered to something oddly sullen. "Thank you, but… that is not what I am here to discuss."

"Oh." Now Heracles was _really _confused. "Then… why…"

"I assume you have heard the news?"

_I knew it, _Heracles's traitorous mind hissed at him, _something _is _going on. _Confusion mounting, all he could do was repeat the word. "News?" He glanced at Kiku as if he secretly knew something, but Kiku just shrugged. "What news?"

Katyusha's eyes widened, and Heracles felt a strange tightening in his chest. He felt lost in the dark, blindsided, and could only stay quiet and stare. "So… you have not." Katyusha parted her lips as if to speak again, but quickly closed them. She was stalling. Finally, after what felt like a surreal, silent eternity, she nearly whispered, "Sadiq… crashed his car, from what I have heard. Last night."

"Crashed his car." Heracles was beginning to feel like a parrot, but he could find nothing useful to say. No, Sadiq had said… but he never thought… Heracles shook his head as if to clear it. There was no sense in jumping to conclusions. "What happened?"

"I have heard nothing but rumors, but I do not believe anyone was hurt." Heracles was nearly able to rid himself of the knot in his chest, but then Katyusha looked to the floor and added, "Well, no one else."

Silence. The previously buzzing hall was suddenly bursting with it. Kiku was still motionless and stunned, Katyusha looked a cross between scared and guilty, and both of them were staring at him. Heracles backed against the locker to steady himself. His legs felt suddenly numb. "How…" His voice quivered around the word, and he quickly cleared his throat. "How is he?"

Katyusha exhaled like she had been holding her breath. "That, I do not know. I apologize. That was what I was going to ask you, seeing as you are his, um…"

"Ex." Heracles could barely force the word from his tight throat.

"Right." Katyusha nodded slowly, grimly, as if they were having this conversation at… a funeral. "I apologize for causing you distress. I just thought you should be aware."

Heracles tried to open his mouth, tried to thank her, but he could not do it. All he could do was nod and watch as Katyusha half-heartedly waved goodbye and walked away. Heracles found himself looking around for… for what? An escape? An answer? Static filled his mind, took his air. Sadiq had been so drunk, so hysterical, but… "I never thought he would do it." Heracles said the words before he realized it.

Kiku looked at him, eyes wide and confused, and Heracles looked way. He could not stand to look at him in the midst of this terrified guilt.

He could only speak through it. "I thought he would fall asleep. I did, Kiku, I didn't believe he would actually do this." Heracles was speaking frantically, trying to convince Kiku of things he did not even know the context of, or perhaps he was only trying to convince himself. But no matter what he said, he could not ignore the conclusion he had already convinced himself of. "He's dead."

He had already convinced himself, but it was not until he vocalized it that he became suddenly, violently, fully aware of it. And Heracles knew this was this fault. It had to be. He should have known. Should have done something. It didn't matter what Sadiq had said and done and destroyed; he did not deserve this fate. Kiku was still beside him, and he was shaking his head, or maybe he wasn't, Heracles could not tell, this was his fault, where was he, what was going on? He tried to stop to think and it only threw him deeper into this panic. He could not see straight, yet the world would not stop and the useless words just kept coming.

"It's my fault. Sadiq is dead and I _killed _him." The roomed tilted dangerously, every terrible sound amplifying. Heracles could feel the blood on his hands. "I can't breathe…"

Heracles did not realize Kiku had taken his hand until he started moving. He could not register where he was going, either, but soon the hum of unfamiliar voices faded out, there was a steady ground beneath him, and there was a grip on both his hands. Heracles finally looked up. Kiku was kneeling before him, holding his hands, concern shining brightly in his eyes. There was a staircase above them, and they were alone. Heracles had never seen this part of the school before. He wondered momentarily if Kiku hid here during his own fits of panic. Heracles guessed he did, and knowing he would share this space with him when he needed it the most immediately took the edge off his hysteria.

Kiku could not tell Heracles things would be all right. Even if he could, there was no guarantee it was true. But when Kiku slowly let go of his hands, brought his arms behind his back, and hugged him, it felt that way.

Heracles took a gasping breath, and each after that was steadier than the last. He immediately pulled Kiku closer, closed his eyes and leant into his shoulder, panic still coursing through him, his heart still light and his pulse still racing. He held on like Kiku was the only thing keeping him from plummeting from a cliff. In that moment, it felt that way. His silence was what was piecing his sanity back together.

The guilt was still so overwhelming it was painful, but Heracles knew that since Kiku was here with him, holding him, comforting him, that he must not think he was the horrible person Heracles thought of himself as. Kiku's touch muffled the sound of his nerves as they screamed. It felt like they would stay that way forever. Heracles would have been more than happy to. But eventually, he had to pull away, had to look Kiku in the eyes.

"Thank you," he said, almost afraid to break the silence. Heracles lifted a hand to touch Kiku's cheek and noticed it was trembling. It could have been a remnant of panic, but he got the feeling this was due to something else. He could only whisper, only repeat, "Thank you so much." The words felt all encompassing rather than specific to the moment. There was so much to thank Kiku for, it was astounding.

Though he was flushed, Kiku did not move his hands from Heracles's shoulders. Heracles ran his thumb over his cheek, saw his hand was now steady, and realized he was no longer scared. He felt suddenly calm, even as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Kiku seemed to always have this effect on him. Then, Heracles realized… maybe this was why it had been so easy to fall in love with him. It had happened even as he tried desperately to stop it, even when it was not supposed to. And now there was nothing keeping them apart. Not even air.

"Kiku," said Heracles softy, still without moving his hand. Kiku lifted his gaze from the floor to look at him. "Do you remember that day by your house, when you, well, you wanted to…" Heracles trailed off. He had intended to find a charming way to phrase this, but he was now remembering he had never been very good at that. Besides, why ruin this moment with words? It would be best to keep things simple. "Would it be alright if I kissed you now?"

Kiku froze, his expression blank, and Heracles began to worry he had gotten too bold too quickly. Then he smiled in that slight, shy way, just like he always did, and nodded.

Heracles did not wait long. After all, he was tired of waiting. He moved his hand from Kiku's cheek to the back of his neck, leant forward, and closed the gap between them. At first it was barely a graze. Kiku was motionless, stiff, and Heracles could only hover centimeters from his lips, not really touching them, their breath shallow and mingling. It was as if he was afraid Kiku would shatter through touch alone. Heracles nearly pulled back in fear he actually would, but without warning Kiku pressed his lips fully against his and worry disappeared.

Heracles had never been kissed like this before. It was sweet and gentle and affectionate, rather than rough and stolen for all the wrong reasons. Kiku's lips were so soft and warm against his, and everything about this felt so natural, and Heracles simply fell into it, melted into it. Kiku rested an unsteady hand on his chest and Heracles wondered if he could feel his racing heart. A soft sigh escaped Heracles's lips, warmth spread through his chest. He never wanted this unreal moment to end… partially because reality just scared him too much at the moment.

But eventually they had to break apart, and Heracles opened his eyes to see Kiku looking back at him. Heracles was still floating in a dreamlike state, but as reality became to filter back, he realized through his haze that he felt almost equip to deal with it now. And he would not be able to say that if Kiku was not here. "Thank you," he whispered for what felt like one too many times, even if it simultaneously felt like not enough. Heracles kissed Kiku's cheek then rested his chin on his shoulder.

A million things he could have said flew through his mind – sentiments, worries, petty commentary that could have at least filled the silence – but he decided to say nothing. There were no words in existence that could make this moment any more perfect, nor any that could make what lay beyond it any less terrifying.

Some silences were just not meant to be filled.

.

One of the best moments of Heracles's life ended up leading into one of his worst days. Finally being able to kiss Kiku should have rendered him euphoric, but the moment they parted ways, he found himself back in an unfamiliar state of jittery anxiety. All he could feel was a painful knot in his stomach and far too many eyes on his back. Heracles tried not to think too much, but he soon resigned… he _always _thought too much.

By the time he finally exited the school building, said too quick a goodbye to Kiku and walked to Sadiq's house, his mind was racing too fast to keep up with. He walked as if he was fated to be executed. The trip did not take long enough, but at the same time he was too slow; the streets were too quiet yet his mind was shrieking. Recently, he _hated _Sadiq. Heracles was nearly certain Sadiq felt the same about him, considering all he had done to hurt him. The simple thought of him made Heracles sick. But the thought that Sadiq had _died… _the idea felt like claws in his throat and knives through his heart. Heracles simply did not possess the pure, dark, ruthless kind of hatred necessary to wish death on someone else. If nothing else, he just wanted this – all of this – to be over.

Heracles was exhausted by the time he knocked on the door. But his hands were not too tired to shake, and his conscience was more awake than it had ever been. It beat guilt through his mind as rhythmically as a drum, screamed through every second of silence, wrapped around his throat and strangled him. Heracles knocked until he simply couldn't anymore. Then, he tried the handle – and the door opened easily. Sadiq had never been good about locking his doors.

Walking inside felt like entering forbidden territory, no matter how much time Heracles had spent there over the years. Speaking felt even more taboo. "Sadiq?" The word broke the dead, unmoving air, but received no response. Heracles did not dare to think why that might be. He grew louder and faster without meaning to. "Sadiq, are you in here?" Silence. Heracles placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, closed his eyes, and breathed out, "No…"

"I'm… here."

The voice was small, broken, and contained none of the grating energy Heracles was used to hearing. He rushed in the direction it came from anyway. Guilt faded, things began to make sense again. Heracles was breathing by the time he stopped walking.

Sadiq was standing against the wall in the living room, near statue-like, his gaze cast downward and his presence non-existent. It was as if he had started towards the door and stopped halfway. The sight of him standing around so listlessly was strange, but it was relieving… because he was standing.

Heracles focused his gaze on the wall. What was there to say, in a situation like this? "There you are."

"Herc." Sadiq did not look up, barely even raised an eyebrow. If anything he sounded resigned to something. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Oh." A clock ticked in the distance. A gust of wind blew through an open window. "I heard what happened." Heracles spoke flatly, because he was not sure how to feel. Ridiculous for being so panicked, angry that such a reaction had been necessary at all, thankful that it ended up being for nothing… everything had been enveloped in grey.

Neither made an attempt at getting closer to each other. Eye contact felt foreign. "People are already talking about me?" Sadiq continued to stare at the ground as he spoke, and then suddenly let out a short, dry laugh. "What do they know?" Whether it was rhetorical or not was uncertain.

"Enough, I suppose," said Heracles, daring to step closer. He was surprised how lifeless this felt, considering the circumstances – it felt as if they had never known each other. Even in the vast discomfort, he risked making it worse by asking what he was not sure he wanted an answer to. "What… did happen, exactly?"

Sadiq shrugged, then winced. "Don't worry about it."

Heracles grit his teeth. He had already 'worried about it,' enough to stop his heart and end his world. In fact he was still worried about it, because he was here, having this aimless discussion, while he could very well be with Kiku. Some senseless part of his heart must have still been trapped here. It had to be, or else would not have asked, "Are you hurt?"

A pause. Sadiq shifted in his stance, braced his hands against the wall, and shook his head. "No," he said quietly, roughly.

Heracles had never heard a more obvious lie. He finally found the courage to break the barrier between them, walk across the room, and stand directly in front of Sadiq. When Heracles truly looked at him, he rocked back in shock and the guilt jumped out from where it had lay dormant to choke him again. There was definitely a reason Sadiq would not look at him.

Sadiq was covered in grotesque shades of purple, blue, and red, like a disastrous watercolor painting. Both his eyes were black. Bruises covered nearly every part of him, none more striking than the dark splotch poking out from his color like a spreading plague. Cuts covered his arms, his hands; a large gash formed a crescent moon on his cheek. When Heracles leant in to see, Sadiq attempted to turn his head even further to the other side. He almost seemed ashamed. The look was just… unsettling, on someone as shameless and unapologetic as him.

"You are…" Heracles shook his head, either unwilling or unable to believe strong, fearless, arrogant Sadiq had been reduced to this. All he could think was _why. _"You are obviously injured, Sadiq."

"Who cares?" said Sadiq, lurching away even though Heracles made no attempt to touch him. "I'm _fine._"

"No, you are not."  
"Shut up!" Sadiq was suddenly shouting. At least that much was familiar. "Why are you even here, Heracles? Just… Fuck off." What should have been an order sounded entirely too half-hearted and strained. It was almost as if Sadiq was asking him to stay by telling him leave.

Heracles ignored the flimsy verbal assault. The words themselves, like the yelling, were familiar, but nothing else was. Nothing about Sadiq looked or sounded strong anymore. He had done nothing but decline and deteriorate lately, like a man who had been pushed from a cliff and resigned to his demise long before he hit the rocks. Sadiq had never been one to take such treatment, and now he was doing it to himself. Bruised, emasculated, and quiet, he was a ghost of his former self. The question was, again, _why. _

Heracles could only mumble in contemplation, "You are a mess."

It was more an observation than anything, but Sadiq's scowl turned pained as if Heracles had slapped him. "What is that supposed to mean?" He tried to spit the words but failed, and it just made everything worse.

Heracles fought the urge to grab Sadiq by the shoulders and shake him. This behavior was so strange; it actually _angered _him. "What happened to you?"

Sadiq narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Heracles heard his voice get louder, but he could not control it, and the words just kept coming. "You've been acting like a fool."

"Shut up, Heracles. You don't understand." Sadiq exhaled through his teeth, his eyes flashing strangely. "God, you _really _don't understand."

"How could I understand?" It seemed Heracles did not understand anything these days. He threw his hands in front of him, confused, frustrated, and unsure how to deal with it. "Everything you do in nonsensical. You drink, you drive drunk… it's… its all so ridiculous_. _Why do you keep doing these stupid things?"

"You want to know why?" Sadiq was nearly laughing, nearly breathless. "I do it to forget."

"Forget what?"

Sadiq looked Heracles in the eyes and shook his head, maybe waiting, maybe debating. Finally his face twisted, and he looked away. "That you can't stand me."

"What?" Heracles narrowed his eyes, confused. "Why would that matter to you? You hate me."

"Heracles, you idiot! What do I have to do to make you understand?" Sadiq let out something between a growl and scream of frustration, and finally, like a lid blowing off a pot, shouted, "I _love_ you, goddammit!"

Heracles fell silent, the words falling on unresponsive ears. The last time he had heard that from Sadiq was when he was almost too drunk to stand. He could not even remember the last time he had said it sober. As Sadiq stared, eyes expectant, Heracles took a small step back. "You don't mean that." After all, he had never showed any signs that he meant it. Why would he now?

Sadiq opened his mouth, eyebrows drawn in anger, and for a moment Heracles was sure he would shout again. Then Sadiq visibly dissolved. He leaned back against the wall, looked down at his hand as if to examine it, and sighed. "If you don't want to believe me, don't. It doesn't change anything." He was frowning then, and it made him look ten times older than he was. "Look, I tried to drive because I wanted to see you. Fix things, or something."

So it had not all been drunken nonsense. Heracles knew he should ignore this, that it did not even matter now, that he should leave. Heracles knew Sadiq was alive. That should be the end of it. But, for whatever reason, he stayed. Perhaps this raw honesty was just as refreshing as it was downright shocking. "You should not have done that," said Heracles uselessly, unable to think of a decent response. This was too much, too fast. He swallowed heavily and tried to change the subject. "How bad was the accident?"

Sadiq just shook his head. "It… wasn't exactly an accident, you know."

The words were spoken so casually but hung in the air like a threat. Part of Heracles had considered this as a possibility, but he had not been able to believe it, and now reality was being forced upon him like two puzzle pieces that did not go together. "You did this on purpose?" It should have been a statement but it ended up as a question. Stating meant accepting and Heracles was not ready to do that.

There was a pause. Sadiq's hands were trembling, and he used them to rub his beaten face. "Yes," he whispered, as if the word could hurt him. "I mean, it was an impulse, but…" Then he just shook his head, vehemently, as if he had said too much and shocked himself. "Forget it. Forget everything I said. It's nothing. Just get out of here, Heracles. It doesn't matter."

Heracles wanted to believe that, but he knew this mattered. It mattered more than their relationship ever had. He could not save what they were, it was doomed from the start, but he could damn well pick up the pieces. "Are you in pain?" he dared to ask. Sadiq said nothing. The answer was obvious either way. "You should probably sit down." Heracles tried to reach forward, but Sadiq immediately lurched away.

"Don't fucking touch me! I don't need your damn help, Heracles, just leave me alone!" There were tears in Sadiq's eyes, and he wiped them away furiously. Heracles could almost see his resolve slipping.

"Sadiq."

"GET OUT!" Sadiq shouted the words even as his eyes screamed the opposite. "God, Heracles, I hate you!"

He had gone from love to hate in minutes, and Heracles was not sure if he believed either. He was not sure what to believe anymore, what to do, what to say. All he could do was stand still and watch Sadiq fall apart before his eyes.

"This never meant anything to you! Two years and all I ever did was try and figure out how to make it work with you, but I never knew how, and I'm sick of it! I just want to be alone! I _deserve _to be alone!" Then, Sadiq lurched away from the wall he was leaning against and stormed away. Well, tried to. Either his injuries were too great, his hysteria was too strong, or his resolve was just too weak, because he ended up stumbling, letting out some strained obscenity, and collapsing.

Heracles caught him.

And then Sadiq was against his chest, breathing hard, and… crying. Heracles only listened, frozen, as he finally disintegrated. His shoulders shook and his voice was thick. "Shit…" Heracles felt his shaking hands tighten around his back. Slowly, carefully, Sadiq laid his head against his shoulder. His broken words melted against Heracles's neck. "I love you too goddamn much."

And suddenly, painfully, like a knife to the ribs, Heracles believed him. But why now? If only this honest vulnerability had been present when they were actually together, then maybe they would have stood a chance. Heracles considered shoving Sadiq away like a leper, leaving him to deal with the mess he had made. Then he realized he couldn't. No matter how misguided Sadiq had been this whole time, no matter what he had destroyed beyond repair with his lying and cheating and cruelty, Heracles simply could not kick him while he was down.

So he held him. It felt strange, it _was _strange, but Heracles did not know what else to do. Sadiq's tough exterior had been ripped away and he had no idea what to do with what was left. It felt like nothing was left. But that was nothing new.

Silence fell, and Heracles respected that silence. Sadiq did not. "Please don't leave me, bastard." A shuttering, strangled breath. "Take me back. I need you."

For the briefest, craziest second, Heracles almost, almost considered it. Then he fought through the heat of the moment and came back to himself. He had spent two years up to his neck in quicksand, and he just recently been able to pull himself out. The last thing he needed was to be sucked back into this cycle, sucked back into Sadiq's chaos… especially now, after this morning. Heracles felt bad for Sadiq; perhaps he finally understood him now. But he did not love him. He loved Kiku. And nothing either of them could do would change that.

The phrase 'too little, too late,' came to mind immediately.

"I'm sorry." Heracles summoned his courage, took Sadiq by the shoulders and gently pushed him out in front of him. There was hurt in his eyes, but no shock. Heracles, Sadiq, even Kiku… everyone involved needed stability, and it could not be found here. Sadiq must have understood just as well.

Heracles helped Sadiq to the couch. It was a silent, somber process, each touch lingering because both of them knew this was the last time. They did not really look at each other. They were strangers now, and no strong word or meaningful glance would close the gap that had been growing between them for years. Now that even hostility was gone, all that was left was a quiet, bittersweet cloak of understanding.

When Heracles finally spoke, it felt like closing a door that had been left ajar for too long. "I loved you, Sadiq," he said quietly, half-wondering just how long it had been in that tense. Sadiq looked up, his eyes tired and bleary. He was probably asking himself the same question. Too bad it was unanswerable. Heracles leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and ignored the ache in his chest. It was not out of longing. If anything it was out of sympathy, pained acceptance, and strange relief. "I hope you will find your way someday."

Sadiq said nothing. He did not even say goodbye as Heracles walked away, and Heracles did not say it either. Neither of them had ever been very good at civil goodbyes.

It was not until Heracles got outside that he became aware of the tears running down his face. He had thought their fight was closure, but it wasn't. This was it. And somehow it hurt far more than a punch to the jaw.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13

Sadiq could not be sure exactly why he was doing this, but unlike everything else he had done under that uncertainty, at least this could not hurt him any. Not physically, at least.

The day was cold, grey, and drizzly. Sadiq walked anyway. His car was still in the shop, and besides, he knew he wouldn't be driving for a while. The very idea made him sick. So he walked slowly through the familiar streets, still with a slight limp, unconsciously thankful he still had the ability to do so. He had gotten lucky. It didn't feel that way, but he knew, somewhere beneath layers of depression and denial, that it was the truth. He was alive, somehow. Maybe that meant something. Maybe.

His injuries had not even taken too long to heal – on the surface, anyway. The ones beneath it were still wide open, bleeding and stringing, and Sadiq knew it would be awhile still before they sealed over into scars.

But maybe, through some odd miracle, this would help.

This was ridiculous, Sadiq told himself as he approached the doorway he had no business being near. He turned the object he was holding over in his hands, slightly embarrassed to even be holding it, and wondered what was keeping him from turning back. Maybe this was his closure. Maybe he was still clinging to some small, inane fragment of hope. Maybe there was no reason at all.

"Whatever," Sadiq mumbled to himself. He turned back and scoffed, entirely set on forgoing this idea entirely. It was stupid anyway.

But he had made it this far. Sadiq sighed, threw the rose on the doorstep, and walked away without a backwards glance.

.

Cars speeding down the road, rain pouring down on the earth, a cat racing to catch a mouse… all things that were fast must slow down eventually. Eventually they ran out of gas, trickled down to a halt, got tired. Finally, after weeks of chaos, Heracles's life had done the same. And he could not be more grateful.

It had been a lazy, slow, quiet afternoon, the only noise or movement coming from the drizzling rain running down the windowpanes. Heracles had not moved much. Really, he couldn't. The day after he heard what had happened to Sadiq, panicked himself over it, went to him, and was met with nothing more than what could only be described as the result of Sadiq's long-standing emotional, mental, and physical demise, he was exhausted. And that was only the most recent disaster. After months of constant change, excitement, despair, and god only knew what else, the rollercoaster was finally over, and Heracles was near comatose.

Kiku was not immune to it, either. When he arrived at Heracles's home that morning, his eyes were dark, and his face was pale. Maybe he had looked that way for a while. Heracles was not sure. It seemed that only now, after the storm had cleared, that he had time to realize the damage all of it had caused.

Upon realizing that, Heracles had wasted no time in insisting they both take a nap. Kiku had not bothered to protest. He had not even managed to look embarrassed when he settled next to Heracles on the couch. Heracles was secretly thankful it was so small. But he hadn't much time to revel in that, because moments later, they were both asleep. They both needed the rest, perhaps for some time now.

And there was nothing more refreshing than waking up to Kiku sleeping against his chest, smiling, as if he was meant to be there all along. Then Heracles knew, perhaps more certainly than he had ever known anything, that this moment was what he had been searching for all this time. Kiku was the reason he had put himself through all of this.

Some time later, not much had changed. Kiku was leaning, albeit still somewhat rigidly, against Heracles's side, sharing his warmth and listening intently as Heracles showed and told him things he had never showed or told anyone else.

"And this," said Heracles, turning the page of the photo album he had managed to unearth that morning, "is my mother and I when I was about five."

Kiku looked at the photograph, eyes half-lidded and wet from sleep but gleaming with interest all the same. Heracles followed his gaze and fought the urge to sigh. His mother had been so beautiful, with her flowing brown hair and tired, yet wise green eyes. Heracles did not looked away from the photo until he felt Kiku trace something on the back of his hand, one letter at a time.

_J-u-s-t l-i-k-e y-o-u_

Heracles paused, tilted his head. "You think I looks like her?" he asked. Kiku nodded again, and just a moment later, began to spell out something else.

_S-a-m-e e-y-e-s_

"Really?" Heracles could not help but bring the album closer to him, searching for truth in the words. He had never noticed it before, but the more he looked, the more he realized… he _did _have his mother's eyes. "Wow." A slight smile pulled at his lips, warmth swelled in his chest. It was the best compliment he had ever received.

Kiku just smiled, then looked back at the photo and stared, as if he were waiting for something. Heracles realized he must have wanted more of an explanation, and quickly went on.

"I don't remember exactly why this was taken, unfortunately." Heracles could not see anything particularly special about the picture. It was simply him and his mother, outside, standing in front of a what almost looked to be a pile of rubble… "Oh. This must be the first time she ever took me to see the ruins."

Then, he remembered everything – the cool, salty breeze coming off the water, the warm sun on his skin, how his mother had laughed softy in amusement at his immediate fascination, her hand firmly clutching his as she explained the history behind the marvel in front of them. Heracles could recite nearly all of those facts by memory, even now… but he was sure he could not make it sound as magnificent as she did. Never in a million years.

Kiku's touch brought him away from Greece, away from the past, and back to the present reality. He was spelling something again, each brush of his finger slow and tender against Heracles's hand.

_B-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l_

Heracles could not help but wonder what he was referring to. "She was quite beautiful, yes. Or do you mean the buildings?"

_E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g, _Kiku traced. He paused, his hand hovering in the air, and started again with conflicted eyes and flushed cheeks. _Y-o-u. _

Heracles felt his chest swell. "How sweet." He moved to turn the page, but instead his hand ended up hovering, frozen, as if he was afraid to. "I suppose… I'll go on, then." Heracles wasn't sure why he felt the need to say it. He shook his head, and finally turned the page. Kiku glanced at him curiously before looking back to the book.

"This is…um…" Heracles cleared this throat, forced his eyes to focus. He had to study the picture for what felt like far too long before he could say anything about it. He only snapped back to attention when he noticed the evergreen tree in the background, covered in twinkling lights that left colorful shadows on his young face. "Oh, this must have been Christmas. I was… eight, I think. She gave me a little stuffed cat. I believe I still have it somewhere."

Kiku only smiled.

Heracles tried to remember the soft fabric of the plush cat, the twinkling lights and the winter chill, but for some reason, he couldn't. All he remembered was how his mother seemed so tired… Heracles quickly reached out and flipped the page again.

"I think I was… ten, here. Maybe twelve. I am not certain. We never took many photographs." And why didn't they? Heracles felt a swell of sudden, powerful regret that he tried and failed to push down. He pressed his index finger to the photograph and wondered why his hand was shaking. "There she is, sitting down in that chair." Then, a whisper. "She looks thin."

When Heracles looked to his side, Kiku was no longer smiling. He was not looking at the photograph, either, but rather at Heracles with a rather conflicted expression. If he could speak, he would likely be asking him if something was wrong.

Heracles responded as if he had. "I'm fine," he said, which only got him another strange look. At that he felt a pressing need to simply move on, but at the same time felt oddly trapped. He turned the page anyway. It was no relief.

Kiku did not move, look away, or even blink. It was as if he was afraid to.

"This is… um… I'm not sure." Heracles noticed his voice was quivering and quickly cleared his throat. He wasn't even looking at the picture, as his vision was suddenly blurred. He tightened his hold on the book, almost afraid to speak. "I think I will just flip through them."

And that was what he did. Heracles flipped through pages of holidays and birthdays and events he didn't pause on long enough to place, ignoring the twitch in his fingers, ignoring the sting in his eyes, ignoring how Kiku's gaze was concerned and locked firmly on him rather than the book.

Then, after what felt like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, Heracles turned the page… and realized it was blank.

"Oh." Heracles's voice cracked on the word. He turned back to the previous page and stared. It was a simple portrait of his mother, but she looked too pale, too thin. "That's…" He ran his fingers over her high cheekbones, the straight slope of her nose that he had inherited. "…The last one."

And then, as swiftly, roughly, and painfully as a building collapsing on top of him, something in Heracles broke. He brought a hand to his eyes and cried.

Heracles hated this. He could count the number of times in his life that he had cried on one hand, and there was a reason for it. This helpless, pathetic, humiliating feeling was nauseating, but he could not stop it, because his mother was gone, and he missed her, god he missed her, and just now was he realizing that had never gone away. He had just gotten to be skilled at ignoring it. Everyday he told himself he was over it, he was okay, he could handle things like this, and everyday he was wrong.

He was always wrong, it seemed.

Heracles was a storm, his composure swept away in the current, but a gentle touch to his cheek pulled him to the shore. He opened his eyes with reluctance, already turning away, ashamed… Kiku surprisingly did not allow him. He cupped his face and wiped underneath his eyes with his thumb, all soft, guiding touches that comforted and, in a strange way, validated Heracles just how he needed to be comforted and validated.

"I apologize," said Heracles, finally daring to look Kiku in the eyes.

Kiku shook his head. Heracles closed his stinging eyes, and Kiku kissed his eyelids, his cheek, his nose. On the side of his face, he traced a slow heart.

Heracles sniffed once, then found himself smiling. The flame in his heart was cooling, cooling, and he finally extinguished it completely by lifting Kiku's chin with the tips of his fingers and kissing him full on the lips.

They had kissed only twice, and Heracles had to marvel at how similar, yet how different the circumstances were. The first time had been in the wake of an ongoing catastrophe, a last resort when words weren't enough. This time, it was to soothe a wound that had been left open years ago, ignored and festering for entirely too long. Perhaps it would never heal entirely. But now, with Kiku's hand clasping his, all soft skin and warm hands and silent reassurance, Heracles felt as if he was getting here. Finally.

He had said it once, but he needed to say it again. "My mother…" Heracles pulled away and rested his hands in Kiku's hair. It was as soft as a kitten. "…Would have loved you. Absolutely loved you, Kiku."

Kiku was flushed rose petal pink. He nodded once, almost smiling, but too timid to really let it show.

Only one thing felt appropriate then. "Would you like to sleep some more?" said Heracles, closing the book and setting it carefully on the floor. They would revisit it later. He was sure of it. But now, he was just too tired.

A tiny nod, a moment of hesitation, and Kiku was resting against Heracles's shoulder again. He even seemed less rigid… but perhaps Heracles was simply imagining it. Either way, he found it almost absurdly easy to sink into the cushions and, with his hand covering Kiku's, relax completely for the second time that afternoon.

A cat mewled, a child laughed, and a car door slammed from somewhere outside. The air conditioner was humming from the basement. A myriad of sound, yet everything seemed silent. Calm. With everything else far away, and Kiku breathing softly beside him, Heracles easily fell asleep.

…

A gust of wind, a chirping bird, a paper-like flutter a coin's width from his ear. The grass was soft beneath his feet. Heracles looked up, expecting the blue of the sky, but saw nothing but moving, twisting color. The colors tickled his skin. Butterflies, a familiar voice told him. And then he was holding out his hands, and the twirling rainbow was curling towards him and him alone, onto his arms and fingers and face. Peace rested where panic belonged.

When he looked up, the blue sky was back. In the palm of his hand was a single butterfly, red as a rose in the spring, wings spread and reaching towards the sun.

…

When Heracles opened his eyes, the mess of butterflies and brilliant blue sky was replaced with the same old grey ceiling. He was not sure how much time had passed. He was sure, however, that Kiku was still beside him, sleeping soundly with only tiny twitches and nearly inaudible hums to break up his stillness. It was a beautiful sight that Heracles could not help but stare at.

But reality had a stubborn habit of getting in the way of beauty. The cats, Heracles remembered suddenly, were still outside. They were probably hungry by now. With a sigh, he pulled himself from the couch – careful not to disturb Kiku – and made his way to the door.

The air was as warm as the underside of a blanket. Heracles rubbed his eyes and yawned, still floating and half-senseless from sleep. "Aphrodite…" he murmured. "Hades, Dionysus, Zeus…" Another yawn. "Achilles, Athena, Hera…"

Thankfully, hungry cats tended to be obedient cats. They rushed in from all different area of the yard, some of their paws brown with dirt or yellow with pollen, into the house without care and concern. Heracles watched them with a sleepy smile. He envied them sometimes, honestly.

A quick headcount later, Heracles was about to close the door when he looked down. Startling red against grey caught his eye, and he realized that next to his foot was an brilliant, healthy, inexplicable rose.

"What on earth…" Shooing the cats to the living room with one hand, Heracles stooped down and pinched the flower between his fingers. Where had it come from? How had it gotten here? The answers were nowhere in sight. Heracles could not imagine that anyone would simply leave this here, unless, by some strange twist of fate…

"Ridiculous." Heracles shook the thought from his head. One of the cats must have found it somewhere and brought it here, he decided.

But that did not mean there was any reason for such a pretty thing to go to waste. Rolling the stem in his hand, Heracles was hit with a sudden, clichéd, honestly laughable idea… something so remarkably _normal _that it might just be enough to make up for months of chaos and pain.

It was absolutely perfect.

After setting out bowls of food for the cats, Heracles tiptoed back downstairs, mysterious rose in hand, and the beginnings of a dopey grin on his face. Kiku was still sleeping. Heracles hated to wake him, but he was too excited for this simple moment to wait for it.

"Kiku," he whispered. Heracles leant against the back of the couch, reached out a hand, and gave Kiku's shoulder a light jostle. "I have something for you, kitten." He was not sure where the nickname came from… it definitely felt right.

Kiku's eyes opened slowly, heavy-lidded and unfocused from sleep. He tilted his head curiously.

Heracles found himself suddenly, powerfully nervous. He wondered if such an emotional was normal in a moment like this. He had nothing to go off, nothing to validate himself or his feelings with. All he could do was dive headfirst into unfamiliar territory.

"I was wondering…" Heracles swallowed, lifted the rose like a torch, and then lowered it like a knighting sword, "…if you would like to attend prom?" After a pause, he found it best to add, "With me?"

Confusion. Kiku's eyes were suddenly alight with it. His gaze flitted to the rose, then to Heracles, then, again, to the flower. His blank gaze suggesting that he had never seen such a thing before.

Then, without warning, a small nod. Heracles was beginning to think that nod was the eighth wonder of the world. And if it wasn't, the little smile that followed it definitely was.

"Oh." Heracles could only wonder where the shock was coming from. Had he expected him to say no? Perhaps… everything that had lead them to this point would certainly warrant it. "Oh," he repeated, before the shock faded and a relieving rush of joy took its place. He smiled. "I very much look forward to it."

Of course, Kiku could not return those sentiments aloud. But he could take the rose from Heracles's idle hand, touch the petals with careful fingers, inspect it from all angles as if it were a precious jewel. He looked up, and Heracles leant down to kiss him.

A new beginning.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

_Author's Note: I apologize for the short length of this chapter. It's only like this because I felt the need to add a bit of a transition between the more dramatic story arcs and the calmer ones. Not to worry, the next chapter will be longer, and far more eventful!_


	14. Chapter 14

The month of May passed in a slow, easy muck of days, each nearly indistinguishable from the last. If anything, it was boring. Heracles was grateful for it. Boring was a welcome change from fast, pained, chaotic. But even the slowest days seemed to go by quickly, because he spent them with Kiku. It was prom night before either of them even realized it.

Having never been to a dance in his life, let alone an American one, Heracles was almost embarrassingly ignorant to the customs. Fortunately for him, Kiku did not seem much better off. Currently, they were standing in the middle of Kiku's living room, Heracles standing perfectly still as Kiku tried to pin some type of flower on his lapel with shaking hands and a flushed face.

Yao was standing a few feet away, outright amused. "Would you like some help, Kiku?" he asked after what might as well have been an eternity.

Kiku immediately shook his head. Then, after another terribly tense moment and a small prick that Heracles tried not to wince at, Kiku dropped his hands, and the flower stayed put.

Heracles sighed in relief, hoping not to be obvious about it, then looked down and inspected the rose and smiled. "Good job," he said. Kiku smiled back.

As the customs apparently go, Heracles had a flower for Kiku as well – one that was made from the very same he found by his door, for poetic's sake – but he managed to pin in on without much struggle. Yao then insisted on taking a flurry of photographs, and Heracles was as grateful for that as he was for these last calm weeks. Yao's insistence, Kiku's embarrassment, the sense of family that lurked behind it all… he could not remember the last time he had the privilege of something this wonderfully mundane.

Yao finally set the camera on the kitchen counter. "I suppose it's about time for you two to leave." Then his light smile fell, a certain darkness washed over his eyes, and he looked to Kiku with a stiff grin that was painfully artificial. "Actually, Kiku, can you feed Hebe before you leave?"

As Heracles stood frozen, Kiku seemed to have an entire conversation with brother without uttering a single word. While Yao remained smiling, Kiku stared for a moment, pursed his lips, and gave a tiny sigh before walking out of the room.

Yao stopped smiling the moment Kiku's back was turned. His expression abruptly flipped to more of a soulless grimace, and before Heracles could even register the change, Yao was inches from his face.

"Heracles," he said, more of a statement than anything.

"Uh…" Heracles swallowed. "Hello."

"You're going to listen to me for a moment." Yao almost had to crane his neck to say the words, but Heracles was thoroughly intimidated regardless. He only nodded. "I think we both know you already hurt Kiku once."

Memory hit, and pain struck into Heracles's chest so fiercely he had to shut his eyes for a moment. That afternoon in front of Kiku's house and all that lead up to it was, and probably always would be, one of his biggest regrets. "I apologize sincerely for that."

"I would hope so." Yao did not break eye contact once, the fire in his eyes unwavering. Heracles wasn't sure if he had even blinked. "I am not exactly thrilled with you right now. Kiku may have forgiven you, but I haven't. You will have to earn my trust back."

Heracles nodded again. He had made his bed, he supposed. "I understand."

"Good." Yao took a small step back, and Heracles felt the air rush back into his lungs. "Now, Heracles, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're a decent young man who made a mistake. You should be thankful for that. I would not be allowing you to take Kiku to this dance otherwise."

Heracles was grateful, almost ridiculously so. "I-"

He was not allowed to finish. "But," Yao interjected, closing the gap between them that had only recently been opened, "if you hurt Kiku again, you will never see him again. And I will personally make sure you never hear the end of it. Do you understand?"

If Heracles were to do such a thing, he would not allow _himself _to see Kiku again. Paying for such a sin in the most grievous way possible would only be a natural consequence. He nodded a third time, all determination all sincerity, internally praying it would come across as sincere as he meant it. He wanted this man's trust, perhaps more than he had ever wanted anything. "Yes, I understand."

"Alright, then." Right then, Kiku reentered the room. Yao all but jumped backwards, smiled innocently, and said, as sweetly as could be, "Have fun, you two."

A bit shaken, a bit nervous, and entirely excited, Heracles nodded, took Kiku's hand, and walked with him out the door.

.

The hotel ballroom was large, crowded, and deafeningly loud. Heracles was not exactly sure what he expected. But he was fairly sure that all of this – the blaring lights, the pounding music, the 'dancing' that looked more like an obscene act than anything – was not part of the picture. Judging by the borderline terrified expression on Kiku's face, he could guess he was not alone.

Heracles threw a quick glance at the dance floor. "Did you want to…" Kiku shook his head almost before he finished speaking, and Heracles was immediately relieved. He was not opposed to dancing, but here, with Kiku… it just didn't feel like the time or the place. "Would you like to sit down?"

When Kiku nodded, he looked almost painfully relieved. Heracles felt about the same.

Sitting at a table near the back, away from the speakers, crowds, and noise, Heracles could almost say this chaotic ballroom was peaceful. Although, he may have been biased… looking at Kiku had never brought him anything but peace.

"Thank you for coming with me." Heracles smiled. Then, strangely nervous, he looked down to fiddle with his cuff. "I apologize if it seems a bit… excessive."

Kiku looked to either side, soaking in the atmosphere, and then looked back to Heracles. He shook his head.

After looking up for only a second, Heracles was staring at his sleeves again. "That's…good." He cleared this throat, unsure what to say, what to do, in a situation like this. He looked up and over Kiku's head when something caught his eye. "Oh, Katyusha is here."

Kiku turned to look as well, a bit frantically.

Katyusha was a vision in teal, short hair wavy and pinned, makeup shimmering under the lights. She stood with a group of girls and a tall, broad-shoulder young man that Heracles got the feeling he had seen before – her date? – who was, oddly enough, wearing a scarf. Most importantly, she was smiling.

Heracles was happy to see her – it was wonderful to see the mess with Sadiq hadn't damaged her. He barely knew he, but at the same time, seeing her here, laughing and radiant, was like a sign that things had finally turned out all right.

"Her dress is very pretty," he said.

Kiku turned slightly, nodded. He appeared almost relieved – strange, considering he had been nothing but an unfortunate bystander to it all.

"I am glad," Heracles reached to the side, took Kiku's hand, and absently played with his fingers, "That everything worked out for the best."

Kiku, forever wordless and beautiful, leant against Heracles's side in response.

Heracles's heart about burst – he was nearly positive the poor thing was fairly weak by now, after these past days. He could barely hear the roaring music anymore. Suddenly so filled with joy he was tired again, Heracles rested his head against Kiku's, and, still clutching his hands, shut his eyes. Just for a moment, he told himself. It would just be for a moment.

…

Heracles was awoken by a sharp shove to the side. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and slowly became aware of a few thing – firstly, he was at prom. Secondly, Kiku was beside him, wide-awake, clutching his hand. Lastly, the tall boy he had spotted early was directly in front of him. Kiku was already staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh, um…" Heracles stifled the urge to yawn. "Hello."

"Hello." The boy's voice was unfittingly light, the accent strikingly similar to Katyusha's. "You are Heracles." It was a statement, not a question. He adjusted his scarf, something absurdly out of place in this setting and season, without moving his gaze.

"Yes."

"You are here with Kiku." Again, it was a statement. The boy leaned to the side, smiled so wide he had to close his eyes, and shot Kiku a tiny wave. "Hello again, Kiku."

So, they knew each other, apparently. If anything, Heracles was more confused. "Have we met?"

"Oh, no." The boy actually giggled. "I am Ivan." Ivan paused, looked the side, and visibly blushed. "I am… very good friend of Yao's."

Heracles suddenly understood what was occurring, and Kiku seemed to have caught on ages ago. He turned from Heracles, propped his elbow against the table, and hid his face in his hand.

"I see." Heracles had to wonder just how many people were out for him. Sure, it was nice to know Kiku had so many people looking out for his wellbeing, but this was just getting tiring. "Is there a problem?"

"Not now." Ivan giggled again. It was eerie, just as it was when leant forward and stared Heracles dead in the eye. "But I do not wish to see that change." He tilted his head. "I do not believe you do, either."

Heracles was immediately inclined to agree with that. He only shook his head.

"You will take care of Kiku, yes? Treat him well?"

Heracles took Kiku's hand again, perhaps to prove a point, perhaps simply out of discomfort. "Of course."

"Wonderful!" The darkness was suddenly gone from Ivan's violet eyes. "Bye-bye!" Then, Ivan simply strode – or, perhaps more accurately, skipped – away.

Even in this noisy ballroom, everything felt deadly silent for a long moment. Kiku had not yet moved.

"Well," said Heracles eventually, "is there anyone else I should know about?"

Kiku snapped back to life, cheeks flushed red with no help of the lights, and mouthed, frantically, _sorry. _

"That's alright," said Heracles honestly. He would do anything for Kiku. If it meant facing an army alone, he would do it, without a second thought. "It is sweet that they look after you." Heracles hoped there would come a day that he was not seen as a threat – but, understandably, he would have to earn that.

A second passed, and suddenly, unexpectedly, like a switch being flipped, the fast beat of the current song turned slow – pulsing drums to swelling strings in seconds. Heracles absently turned to Kiku, only to have him immediately turn away.

Heracles continued to look at him, even after Kiku hid his face. Heracles figured he had yet to get past Kiku's layers of bashfulness. He had seen him let down those walls before, but it was never for very long, and Heracles suspected there that was still a bit of a defensive edge even in their closest moments. It was understandable, given his past. But Heracles eventually wanted to see Kiku let his guard down completely.

And that day was likely very far off, but Heracles knew, deep down, that this very moment was a perfect chance to step towards it.

Nerves firing, Heracles pushed back his chair, stood, and extended an unsteady hand. "Kiku." He swallowed, briefly adverted his eyes. "Will you dance with me?"

Heracles fully expected Kiku to flush, to freeze, to stare at him as if he had spontaneously sprouted wings. He expected him to refuse out of embarrassment. But, to Heracles's astonishment and delight, Kiku only hesitated a moment before slowly nodding and standing as if he had forgotten how to use his legs. Kiku took Heracles's waiting hand and kept his eyes there.

For what could have been the tenth time that night, Heracles was uncertain what he was meant to do. He had danced before… but not like this. Never like this. He led Kiku a few feet from their table, not far enough to really be part of the crowd, and slowly, carefully, as if he might break, placed his hands on Kiku's side. Kiku draped his arms around Heracles's shoulders just as gently.

Heracles took a small step to the side, and it felt like teetering off the edge of a knife. Kiku missed a beat, but soon fell into his hesitant lead, his eyes locked unblinkingly on their feet. The song went on, filling the room with muddled declarations of love and desire. Heracles could not make out most of the lyrics, but he somehow understood the emotion, the feeling behind it, the yearning and passion and warmth. He also understood that all of it spun back on Kiku.

As the music continued, Heracles gradually pulled Kiku closer, until there was only a small, guarded gap between them. Heracles's fast pulse sped up further. Kiku still would not look up, as if each step he took was a complicated, dire decision.

Then, before Heracles could even catch his baited breath, Kiku slide his arms from around Heracles's neck to under his arms, his hands faintly clutching the back of his dress shirt, and leant against his chest.

Heracles whispered, "Kiku…" He cleared his suddenly thick throat, blinked away his blurred vision, and, before he could stop them, said what had been thrumming through his blood for what felt like a lifetime. "Kiku, I love you."

Kiku looked up. He couldn't say it back, but it was there, in his eyes, in his parted lips, and finally, in the way he leant back against Heracles's chest and traced a heart between his shoulder blades. Heracles bit back a gasp, numb with disbelief, with happiness that had grown too strong to be felt. He blinked back hot tears, and kissed the top of Kiku's head.

If Heracles held him any tighter, he was sure he would have broken him.

.

Katyusha stood near the center of the ballroom, hands clasped daintily in front of her, giggling at a silly joke one of her friends had made. This night was going wonderfully. She had gone with a group of her friends – Elizaveta with Roderich, Lilli with Natalia, Ivan, and a sweet girl from Seychelles named Michelle that Natalia knew.

Katyusha could not recall one bad moment. She had spent the entire night laughing, talking, dancing, and having the time of her life. Sadiq, and the entire disaster that came with him, was the absolute last thing on her mind. It was in the past now.

The only thing that managed to weaken her smile was the slow dances. It was sweet, really, to see Eliza with Roderich and Lilli with Natalia, but at the same time… Katyusha lightly shook the thought from her head. She smiled again, and launched back into her conversation with Michelle.

About halfway through the song, Katyusha felt a light tap on her shoulder. A bit startled, she turned, and saw a boy she had never met before – in person, anyway. Katyusha definitely knew his name. Here, it was just near impossible to not know Francis Bonnefoy.

"Good evening, _Madame," _he said, notorious smile lighting up his face. Francis was unshaven, with his long hair loose… a look that would be sloppy on just about anyone else but effortlessly elegant on him. "Are you enjoying the evening?"

"I am." Katyusha was not sure whether to be confused or charmed by all of this. "Have we met before?"

"I do not believe so." Francis tossed a bit of hair over his shoulder, blue eyes shining, and then stuck his bottom lip out in a mock pout. "And that, my dear, strikes me as a bit of a tragedy."

Katyusha giggled. What a bizarre, silly, oddly charming man. She could see why people always talked about him. "Maybe it is," she said. She smiled slyly. "Are you hitting on me, Francis?"

"Only if it suits you, miss…?" He trailed off, his tone prompting.

"Katyusha," she said. "And you are Francis? You seem to have a bit of, how you say, reputation."

Francis laughed, loud and deep. "Ah, how people talk! I suppose I am spoken about, Katyusha, but from what I have heard, most of those things they are saying are rather kind."

A smile. "Maybe."

"But talking is for another time." Francis extended a hand. "Right now, my dear, I would rather dance."

"Oh." Katyusha could not help but giggle again – what an odd situation. She turned briefly to Michelle, who wore a giddy smile and nodded immediately. Katyusha twisted back to Francis, put her hand out with a dramatic sigh, and said, "I believe that would be okay."

Katyusha never particularly liked dancing. But when Francis grinned, escorted her to the center of the floor like some kind of princess, and proceeded to lead her in the cheesiest, most over the top – and, honestly, sweetest – waltz she had ever been a part of or ever seen, she decided it wasn't all that bad.

When the song ended and he kissed her hand, she decided all the pain that occurred prior to this night must have been leading to something. Over the course of the night, while Francis stuck around and made her and her friends laugh over his absurdity and giggle over his charms, she decided she was more than ready to find out what that something was.

.

Sadiq was not entirely sure why he even decided to come to this stupid dance. He hated the music, he hated the people, and more than anything, he hated that Heracles was inside, dancing with someone who was not him. The very thought infuriated him, although just about everything infuriated him these days… it probably had something to do with the nicotine withdrawal.

Smoking was a filthy habit, Sadiq had recently decided. It was about time he quit. That decision had nothing to do with Heracles always hating it. No, really.

So here he was – sitting outside this god-awful hotel ballroom, uncomfortable in the suit he had rented for god knows what reason, and wishing he had something to drink. What a miserable, miserable picture. He should really just go home. But dammit, he paid for this bullshit, and he would be damned if he let his pride get in the way of what was supposed to be one of the most memorable nights of his life.

Alone, with nothing but a distant baseline to keep him company, Sadiq was left to wonder exactly what had brought him to this point. This downward spiral had started… he didn't even know when it had started, actually. Maybe it was the day he crashed his car. Maybe it was day he drove Heracles over the edge, the day the only person he ever loved punched him in the face for good reason. Maybe he was doomed from the second he dared to call Heracles his boyfriend. At this point, he had no idea. Figuring it out was beyond pointless. But he still tried.

Sadiq should have treated him better. He knew that, he had _always _known that, yet it had seemed about as possible as flying when they were together. If he could only turn back time… Sadiq bit down on his cheek. He was not going to do this again. He had done it to himself before, and it had done nothing for him, nothing but tear his psyche apart until it was worth off than it already was. It was over. Realistically, it had been over for a long, long time. It was about time he accepted that.

Then why was it so damn hard?

Sadiq closed his eyes, brought his hands to his temples, and lowered his head nearly to his knees. It was that one night. That _one _night, that ruined absolutely everything. If he had only learned to think before he acted, had only kept his damn pants on, he and Heracles could still be together. He was absolutely sure of it. If only, if only…

He was broken from his thoughts at the sound of a door opening. Sadiq lifted his head, turned, and saw that someone else was now outside. They made eye contact, and Sadiq could not help but stare. This person was male, short, unaccompanied, and, strangely enough… wearing a keffiyeh with his suit. _That _was certainly something Sadiq had not seen in awhile.

"Uh…" The boy continued to stare, and Sadiq cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hey."

A soft, monotone response. "Hello."

The boy did not say anything else, nor did he move. Since his expression was blank as paper, Sadiq could only wonder what he must be thinking… did he find it strange that Sadiq was out here? Did he feel bad for him? Was he waiting for the perfect moment to smirk, laugh, and walk away?

Face flushed, Sadiq quickly reverted back to old habits. He snapped, "Would you quit staring at me?"

"My apologies," the boy said, expression unchanging. "I was only thinking that you look a bit down, my friend."

His tone was genuine, without jeer, and Sadiq was immediately confused by it. Why would this stranger be concerned about him? "A little," he said, despite himself. "I guess."

The boy tilted his head, the edge of his keffiyeh sliding down his shoulder. "What is troubling you?"

This was too much, too fast, too _weird. _Sadiq turned away. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"It seems that it does."

"Why would you care?"

"Forgive me if I seem intrusive," he said, somehow managing to sound apologetic and flippant simultaneously. "When I see someone clearly in need, I cannot help but try and lend a hand. This is simply how I was raised."

Well, that was… different. Sadiq softened his tone. "Oh."

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"I mean, I can't stop you." Sadiq looked up, finally meeting this boy's deep brown eyes. Curled tufts of dark hair stuck out from under the keffiyeh, small, dark hands from his too-big jacket, sharp features from his thin face. Sadiq realized he was staring and looked away. "You could at least tell me your name."

"Of course. I am Gupta Muhammad Hassan." The boy- Gupta, sat down beside Sadiq then, straight-backed and cross-legged. "And you?"

"Sadiq."

"Sadiq." Gupta said his name as if he were tasting it. "A wonderful name. It means honest, did you know?"

"No," said Sadiq, partially as an answer, partially as an interjection. He chuckled mirthlessly at that. Honest… right. If he were half as honest as he should be, he would not be in this situation right now. "No, I didn't know that."

Gupta changed the subject. "So, what is ailing you?"

That was a loaded question if Sadiq had ever heard one. He shrugged. "It's kind of a long story."

"I have time," said Gupta immediately. "I do not wish to go back in there." He jerked his head towards the door, towards the music and laughing and activity. "It is… loud."

Sadiq laughed, with humor this time. "You didn't expect prom to be loud?"

"I did not expect anything. I only went because I heard it was the 'American' thing to do."

Sadiq raised his eyebrows. "Not from around here, huh?"

"No. Egypt."

"Ah." Egypt… it was so far away. Sadiq was actually impressed – Gupta's English was excellent, and he must have only come here recently. It had certainly taken Sadiq longer to adjust all those years ago. "I'm from Turkey, myself."

Gupta cracked a small smile, and despite just meeting him, it was surprising to see. "Turkey. Hmm… a wonderful country, and a wonderful name. Fascinating."

Fascinating was… one way to put all of this, Sadiq supposed. "Uh, thanks."

Gupta nodded once. "You may go on."

Relentless, this one. Sadiq still could not fathom why he cared. But he was tired of thinking, tired of being alone, and tired and keeping everything to himself. So, against his better judgment, Sadiq pushed past his pride and started speaking.

He started from the beginning – as far back as he remembered, anyway. Sadiq told this inexplicable Egyptian about Heracles ignoring him for months – making sure to mumble the word 'boyfriend,' and silently hoping Gupta wouldn't pass judgment – about the little Japanese boy that took his place before he realized it. About the drinking, the parties… about that _one_ party. After taking a breath, Sadiq shakily recounted why there were scars on his scars and a slow-healing bruise covering the majority of his shoulder.

"So, yeah," said Sadiq as a sloppy, unsure finish. "It's been a busy couple of months."

Gupta said nothing, wide-eyed, and only blinked.

Of course. Of course this strange boy would not understand. He was straight out of Egypt; spoke like an Imam, wearing a _keffiyeh, _for God's sake… why the hell did Sadiq even dare to think he would understand? "Spare your insults, alright?" Sadiq forced a glare even as his heart sank. "You think it's disgusting. I get it; I've heard it before; I don't care. Just go away if you-"

Gupta abruptly shook his head. "No! Oh no, Sadiq, this is not what I was thinking."

Sadiq leant back, his shoulders loosening, and felt the fire in his veins simmer down. "Then what are you thinking?"

"I am thinking…" Gupta furrowed his brow, and spoke each word carefully. It was almost like a question. "I am thinking you need Allah, my friend."

Sadiq fought the sudden, overwhelming urge to slam his head into the brick wall behind him. Maybe that would alleviate the shame. "Look, if you're trying to 'cure' me…"

"You are misunderstanding again." A slight smile, a rush of relief. "That is an American expression, correct?"

Sadiq understood, with a jolt of both confusion and amusement, that this Egyptian was trying to joke with him. He bit back a laugh. "Not quite."

"Oh."

Sadiq thought back to his past, his heritage, and said, "So, you're Muslim?"

Gupta nodded. "I am." He tilted his head and looked to Sadiq questioningly. "Are you?"

Sadiq had to consider it, but stopped as soon as he caught himself. He shook his head. "I was. Not anymore, really," he said dismissively. Once upon a time, that answer may have been different. But not now. He couldn't remember the last time he attended Mosque, followed a prayer schedule, or even opened a Qur'an. If his father saw him now… he shut his eyes briefly and forced the thought away. The man had never cared about him anyway.

"I see." Gupta flitted his blank eyes downward, and thankfully changed the subject. "I am sorry things have been so difficult for you."

Sadiq shrugged, even as his chest fluttered from the words. It was as if someone had finally pulled the knife from his ribs and allowed him to breathe. Maybe, just maybe… all Sadiq had really wanted was someone to listen. As disgustingly pathetic as he found the idea, he could find no other explanation. "Thanks," he mumbled finally.

A moment of silence ticked by, and it was broken by a distant car horn. "Oh," said Gupta, standing. "That must be my mother."

Sadiq stared up at him. "Your mother?"

"Yes. She dropped me off."

"Your mother dropped you off at prom, and you went alone."

"Yes."

Sadiq gave a half-smirk. "That's… kind of weird, man."

"Oh." Gupta looked at his feet. "Is it?"

Sadiq felt an immediate, almost painful stab of guilt. He should really learn to be more careful with his words… "Uh, no. It's not. Never mind."

"Oh, good." Gupta looked towards the parking lot, but almost immediately looked back. "I will be seeing you?"

Sadiq hoped so. As silly as it was, this was the most relaxed; the most _accepted _he had felt since… he didn't know. It had been that long. "Yeah, I guess." An idea hit, and Sadiq ran with it before he even finished thinking. "Hey, uh, you're new here, right?"

"Yes."

"I could show you around." Sadiq realized he was still talking up to Gupta rather than to him, and he quickly clamored to his feet. Gupta only came up to his shoulder. "I don't know, maybe I can show you where the Mosque is."

Gupta's smile was close to patronizing now. "That would be very kind, Sadiq."

"Okay." Sadiq felt himself flush, looked down, and kicked the dirt. "How's tomorrow?"

"That sounds just fine." Gupta turned. In his perfectly unaffected, light as air voice, he said, "If you walk me to my car, we can discuss it."

Sadiq paused, nodded, and followed – away from the noise, this dance, and away from Heracles… for good.

.

The dance was over before Heracles even realized it. The lights were back on, and slowly, surely, the ballroom cleared up. Heracles was not upset. Walking under the stars with Kiku was far better than any of that, anyway.

"Thank you for coming tonight," said Heracles, reaching out with one subtle, slight movement to take Kiku's hand. Kiku looked away, but held on. "So, I suppose I should take you home…"

Almost strangely quick, Kiku shook his head.

"No?" Heracles tilted his head. "What would you like to do?"

Kiku stopped walking, and Heracles stopped with him. Just as Heracles looked down, Kiku looked up, brown eyes shining under the light of the moon, and traced a few light circles against Heracles's palm. He then rose to the balls of his feet and pressed a kiss to the side of Heracles's mouth. By the time he got down, he was flushed as red as the rose on his jacket.

A second ticked by, something clicked, and Heracles was entirely positive he looked about the same. "Oh," he whispered. He cleared his throat and tried to speak evenly. "Would you like to come home with me?"

No eye contact dared to be made. Kiku hesitated, and then nodded.

Well, there was not much of a chance that this could take a more unexpected route… Heracles internally resigned to the bright, beautiful, blissful insanity of it all, leant forward, and took Kiku into a bridal hold. Kiku let out a tiny squeak.

"I… read it in a book once," Heracles admitted. "Are you alright?"

Kiku nodded, looking down and smiling, and Heracles carried him through the lamp-lit streets. A couple people stared. It did not bother either of them.

Heracles's door opened with a creak. Kiku got to his feet, smoothed down his jacket, and watched as Heracles flipped on the lights. "There is no one home," said Heracles, as if anything else was at all possible.

Kiku just looked at him.

"So…" Heracles swallowed thickly. He wondered there this nervousness was coming from, because it had never been there with Sadiq. Perhaps that meant something. "Do you want to go upstairs?"

Kiku coughed into his hand, and nodded at the same time.

"Upstairs, then… okay."

Kiku, still without looking up, took Heracles's hand and squeezed. Maybe Heracles was reading too much into it, but it felt like a sign of trust.

Heracles squeezed back. "Follow me," he said softly. Then, with a pounding heart and tingling skin, he led Kiku through the living room, up the steps, and through the darkened upstairs hall to his bedroom. With each step, he wondered how he should feel. Hesitant, nervous… excited?

With the door shut, the curtains drawn, and the room basked in comfortable darkness, Heracles was no closer to an answer. He sat on the edge of his bed as he had a million times, his heart in his throat, and looked up at the most beautiful person he had ever seen standing before him.

Heracles brought his small, trembling hand to his lip. "Are you sure…" he murmured against his knuckles. His glaze flitted upwards, and he watched Kiku nod with unbreakable intent. Kiku could not speak… Heracles had to be sure. He had to be absolutely positive he wanted this. "Okay." His unsteady heart skipped yet another beat. "If you want to stop, just…"

A soft sigh, a shake of the head, a sudden weight against his lap. Kiku's lips were soft against his, cautious. Heracles felt as if his pulse might explode from him. He slid off his jacket, and his hands found Kiku's shoulders and pushed off his own. His shoulders were warm, even through his dress shirt, and Heracles longed to unbutton it, but he forced himself to slow his hands, this mind. Kiku was not Sadiq… thank God. This would be much different than it was with him. In fact it already was, and that was how it should be. There was no need to rush – something like this should never be rushed.

Heracles ran his hands down Kiku's shoulders to his back, tracing the curve of his spine with featherlike, reverent touches, until he was holding his hips, and this kiss had passed the boundary of guarded. Kiku's lips parted, and Heracles about melted at the feeling of his tongue. _Be gentle_, Heracles reminded himself again and again before he lost himself, like a mantra. Gentle. It was not something he was used to. But Kiku was porcelain, something beautiful and precious, and anything else would be unacceptable in the worst possible way.

"Kiku…" Heracles had to physically, mentally restrain himself from pushing upwards, from gripping Kiku's hips and… "Are you alright? Still?"

Kiku nodded again, quicker this time, almost exasperated. His breath was heavy against the crook of Heracles's neck, and Heracles fought not to shudder. He moved to kiss Kiku again, but Kiku went lower and pressed the kiss to the base of Heracles's jaw. Kiku then rocked forward slightly, so slightly, and Heracles realized with a burning ache that he could feel him. Kiku was excited by this already… Heracles was not sure whether to feel smugly proud or cripplingly anxious.

Something else, however, was both distracting him from worry and making his clothes a bit uncomfortable.

"Kiku…" Heracles wanted to say something useful, to slow this down for Kiku's own sake, but with Kiku's lips on the nape of his neck, his back arched, his head tilted back, his breath caught, and he could only repeat, "Kiku…"

There was a hot coil now, twisting pleasantly in Heracles's chest, his stomach, his legs. His muscles relaxed with each soft kiss, but even as his hands moved to the buttons of Kiku's shirt, he forced himself to stop, to glance up, to ask for permission with naught more than his eyes.

Kiku responded by doing the same to Heracles, even if his hands shook.

There was something… magical, quite honestly, about the electric jolt that shot down Heracles's spine when Kiku's bare chest met his. He gasped and then moaned, softy, hopefully unheard. Kiku's hands were clutching his shoulders, warm and intoxicating. But Heracles had to check. Had to be certain.

"Is this too fast?" Heracles struggled to get the words out. "Do you want to slow down? Or stop? Or…"

A faint headshake, an even fainter smile. Kiku lifted Heracles's hand from his waist, lifted it to his chest, and watched with silent amusement and Heracles felt the hard, even thump of his pulse humming beneath his warm skin. He was not sure what it meant, but by Kiku's half-lidded eyes, he could assume what he was trying to convey.

A barrier broke. Heracles lifted Kiku from his lap, pressed him against the mattress, and hovered over him. His blood burned with urgency that he ignored, and he brought his lips to Kiku's as innocently as he could manage. His hands trailed Kiku's torso, to his belt buckle, and, with the deepening kiss acting as permission, undid it.

Even under a set of blankets and heavy cloak of darkness, when Heracles slid his fingers under the waistband of Kiku's boxers, Kiku covered his face. Heracles paused.

"Is…" Heracles fought to steady his wavering voice, "Is everything okay?"

Kiku exhaled heavily, arched his hips… but his hands still shielded his eyes. He nodded, though Heracles was not entirely sure he believed it.

"Hey," Heracles whispered, through his thundering heart, muddled mind, and blurred vision, "Are you nervous?"

Another nod.

"Oh." Heracles smiled. "Me too."

Kiku moved his fingers a fraction of an inch, just enough to peek through them, his gaze almost skeptical.

"Yes." A whisper almost felt too loud. "But that's okay. You don't have to be nervous." Heracles leant forward and kissed Kiku's forehead. "You are so, so beautiful…" His throat was thick, so he swallowed. "I want you to feel that way." A pause, a smile. "That's why I'm nervous."

Slowly, methodically, Kiku lowered his hands from his face. Instead, he reached up and weaved his fingers through Heracles's askew hair. A single kiss wiped away all remaining worry.

The bashfulness never quite went away, but Heracles did not mind. He did not mind when Kiku closed his eyes and hid his face in the crook of Heracles's neck as Heracles slid the last layer of clothing off the both of them, did not mind when Kiku whimpered and quivered, legs twitching, as Heracles got him ready. He certainly did not mind when Kiku's nails clawed at his back when Heracles finally, finally pushed against him, in him, and they were closer than he ever dared to think of, to dream of.

"Does it hurt?" asked Heracles frantically, somewhere between painfully aroused and painfully afraid.

Kiku shook his head, rolled his hips, and then froze.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I…" Heracles did not dare to move. He was not used to being on this side of things. "Do you want me to stop?"

Kiku did not shake his head this time, but lifted his hips again, tilted his head back, and sighed, silently.

"Oh… okay." Heracles still did not move. "If I do something wrong, just… just hit me, okay?"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of not seeing them, Kiku opened his eyes. Heracles did not have much time to marvel in them, because Kiku immediately grasped his shoulders and pulled Heracles into the most mind-numbing kiss of his life.

It was a slow, almost melodic, perfect rhythm. Kiku's hands were on his back, across his shoulders, in his hair, everywhere, bolder than Heracles had ever imagined he could be. Kiku may have not been able to speak. But he could sigh, whimper, almost moan – and, at one point, giggle, apparently at one of Heracles's many expressions. It was more than enough.

This was so much _better, _Heracles realized in the midst of his haze, than anything he had ever experienced. Before this had never been anything but rushed, affectionless, near violent _fucking, _much more a struggle for power than an act of love. Right now, with Kiku tenderly clutching his arms and breathing heavy against his skin, Heracles was finally beginning to understand the term 'making love.'

"Oh, Kiku…" Heracles's knuckles turned white as his gripped the sheets beneath him, almost gasping, fighting for control. That same silly nickname fell unbidden from his lips before he even thought about it. "Kitten…"

Kiku wrapped his legs around Heracles's waist, brought his arms around his back, and pulled him close.

Then, Heracles was almost confused. He was torn through the middle between overwhelming physical sensation and the invisible hands squeezing his heart, both consuming him like flames. His breath was labored, his skin was burning, there were hot tears pricking his eyes. This was too much in the best way, and when Kiku pressed his lips to his arm, it almost drove him straight over the edge. But he held himself back. This was not about him.

It took a spectacular effort for Heracles to move his hand from the bed sheet, to Kiku's chest, and trailed it lower, lower, across the rapid rising and falling of Kiku's torso, over his hips, between his legs. Kiku reacted with the grace of a silent film – arched his back, closed his eyes, and as Heracles watched in awe, moved his lips to form his name. _Heracles… _the word ended just as his gasping release began.

Knowing he could make Kiku feel this way was what broke him. Heracles groaned, a husky, broken sound rising from throat as he pushed forward, and blindly, with his eyes shut tight, pulled Kiku to his chest and held him there as everything lowered, sharpened, climaxed. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. This feeling was far more intense, more _special. _

Immediately worried about crushing him, even in the beginnings of the stunning afterglow, Heracles rolled to his side and sluggishly pulled Kiku with him. Hands clasped and breathing labored, Heracles allowed nothing but the silence to wash over them for a few wonderful moments.

"That was wonderful," said Heracles finally, stifling a yawn. "Was it nice for you?"

Somewhere in that silence, Kiku had lost the fraction of boldness he had gained in the beginning of all this. He kept his eyes locked firmly on Heracles's chest, pulling the sheets to cover himself, his face darkening as he nodded.

"That is good." Heracles reached out absently and brushed a piece of Kiku's hair back. When he didn't look up or even really react, Heracles felt a sharp zing of panic. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Are you in pain?"

Kiku looked up just long enough to shake his head.

Relief set in. "Okay." Heracles looked down at himself, then at Kiku, and lazily swung his legs over the side of the bed. Kiku did not let go of his hand until he said, "I believe it would only be courteous to get you cleaned up."

Kiku scrambled to cover himself even further, nodding again, blushing again.

Heracles returned moments later, dressed only in boxers, to see Kiku had also managed to locate his own. After he got him clean, Heracles thought for a moment and got him one of many white t-shirts. He figured Kiku was not near as comfortable with nudity as he was. And, admittedly, seeing Kiku in a shirt so big it hung off his shoulder was nothing short of heart stopping.

It was until Heracles got back into bed and lied against the pillow that he realized just how tired he was. He looked through half-lidded eyes to gaze at Kiku, inches from his face, hands picking at the borrowed shirt. Heracles could not help but lift his chin and kiss him again, slowly, not a sexual act this time, but one of affection and thanks. Kiku returned it, nudging closer as the seconds passed by until he was nearly on top of him, languid and heavy like a cat with a belly full of milk. As if the speed of the day was finally catching up to him, he leant against Heracles's chest as closed his eyes.

Heracles rested a hand on his back and kissed his forehead, smoothing his slightly damp hair away from his face and behind his ear. "Goodnight, Kitten," he said low. "I love you."

The last thing Heracles remembered before he gave into sleep was a traced heart on his chest.

.

This didn't look that bad. No, really. It could be worse. That was what Kiku told himself as he tiptoed through his front door at seven o'clock the next morning, dress shirt and suit jacket draped over his arm, and Heracles's t-shirt hanging to his thighs. Hopefully, Yao would not be up yet. Hopefully –

"Good morning, Kiku."

Kiku bit the inside of his cheek, but looked up and waved as if nothing at all was wrong.

Yao leaned against the wall on the other side of the hall, crossed his arms, and smirked. "You are finally back." It sounded as if he was fighting laughter. "Did you have fun at the dance?"

Kiku nodded.

Yao quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? A _lot _of fun?"

If there had been any hope at all that his brother wasn't aware of what happened, it was gone now. Kiku looked down and away, heart hammering, and half-heartedly scanned the room for a rock to hide under.

Yao brought his hands to his chest and cooed. "Oh my, my little Kiku is growing up."

Kiku glanced at the window and contemplated jumping out of it.

"That boy was gentle with you, right?" Yao clicked his tongue. "I do hope you had him use protection."

Startled and thoroughly humiliated, Kiku shoved past his brother and half-walked, half ran to the kitchen, intent on heading to his room… when he heard another voice.

"Oh, hello, Kiku! How nice it is to see you again!"

Before Kiku so much as process what was in front of him, Yao appeared beside him. "Oh, Ivan." He cleared his throat. "You are, um, up."

"Yes, I am! And it is such a nice morning!" Humming, Ivan flicked his head to the running coffee pot, and well as a flurry of ingredients spread out on the counter. His hair was messy. "I am making breakfast! Would you like some, Kiku?"

Kiku glanced at Yao, only then noticing the large scarf draped around his neck.

"I think…" Yao pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think Kiku is good, sunshine."

Kiku about choked.

Yao flushed, groaned, and smacked Kiku lightly on the arm. "Oh, go shower! I don't know where you've been!"

Embarrassed, tired, and entirely too amused, Kiku resigned and walked to his room – still reeling from what had been the craziest, best, most uncomfortable, most amazing twenty-four hours of his life.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

_Author's note: Yeah, yeah, I know, it's isn't Friday… not for about half an hour, at least. I'm updating today because I have a busy day tomorrow and probably won't be able to. _

_Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed seeing my not-so-common OTPs! That's right, I like FrUkaine, and I ADORE TurkEgy. The latter is actually one of my biggest ships ever, behind Giripan and RoChu of course. I wish it got more attention. Well, I'm kind of going to force it to, since the next chapter will be largely devoted to Sadiq and Gupta. :) Hopefully that chapter will be ready soon! Thank you everyone for your patience. _


	15. Chapter 15

Sadiq kicked at the crumbling sidewalk beneath his feet, hands shoved deep in his pockets, chewing on his bottom lip, and scowling. What had seemed like a great idea last night seemed borderline insane right about now. Why he offered this was beyond him, but it seemed he had quite the knack for getting himself into absurd situations and then regretting them later. Oh well. There was no getting out of it now.

But really, why the hell would he want to show some nerdy Egyptian kid around, anyway? It wasn't as if he wanted anything to do with him. Sadiq didn't need him. He didn't need anyone but himself, actually, and this whole thing was so, so _stupid_…

"Hello, Sadiq."

"HI!" Sadiq shouted the word and cringed immediately; then lowered his voice a bit more than what was strictly necessary. "Uh, how are you, kid?"

Gupta's flat expression did not even flicker. "I am very well. And yourself?"

Sadiq figured 'vaguely pissed off' was not a good answer and 'nervous' would be even worse, so he said, "I'm good."

"Wonderful." Gupta looked down and away, but it did not look to out of nervousness. "I am glad to hear that."

Sadiq found himself staring, not responding. Gupta held himself with such dignity, almost royalty, to a point that made each move he made and every word he spoke come off as almost condescending. At the same time, Sadiq knew that was not his intention. He couldn't tell _what _his intentions were, really. Sadiq could not get a read on this boy. And that drove him absolutely insane.

"Sadiq?"

Startled, Sadiq blinked a few times, turned away, and cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah?"

"Is everything alright?"

Sadiq raised an eyebrow, hoping it was not obvious how transfixed he was by Gupta's flat, perceptive gaze. "Yeah, why?"

Gupta nearly smiled – it looked so odd, yet so striking on his face. "We are still standing here."

"Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to be… right." Sadiq cringed at himself. How ridiculous it was to be so flustered. He squared his shoulders, forced himself to turn, and tried to forget he could still feel Gupta's eyes on him. "Just follow me, I guess."

Gupta only came up to about his shoulder. Sadiq watched him from the corner of his eye, almost suspiciously. Gupta did not even notice.

Sadiq looked away and spoke to distract himself. "Okay, so, obviously the school is down that way, we just passed the grocery store, the bank is-" Sadiq cut himself off when he realized, with a sharp jolt, that Gupta was taking his hand. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Only what is polite," said Gupta, regarding Sadiq with a slightly confused expression that made him feel incompetent. Gupta then furrowed his brow. "Do Americans not do this?"

It took Sadiq a very long moment to remember that it was not uncommon for Arab men to hold hands. It happened in Turkey, it must happen in Egypt… had he been in America so long he forgot his own culture? Such a thing was foreign to him now. However, Sadiq could not convince himself he was upset or uncomfortable. Gupta's hand was soft and warm against his calloused palms. He… didn't hate it.

"Never mind. Don't worry about it."

Unaffected, Gupta simply walked beside Sadiq, eyes scanning the sky and buildings and treetops, as if he had never seen anything like it before. His keffiyeh caught a gust of wind, and he brushed it down with his free hand without looking away. Sadiq could only wonder what was so damn interesting. He was too busy staring at their clasped hands to think about it.

"It is a lovely town," said Gupta finally, seemingly genuine.

Sadiq scoffed. "Really, you think so? I've always thought it's kind of a dump."

Gupta actually gasped, lightly. "What a thing to say," he said. "Why, compared to rural Egypt, this town is near _Jannah." _

Sadiq never considered that. He immediately felt a bit guilty, and quickly changed the subject. _"Jannah? _Wow, you must really be religious."

"I would consider myself as such." Gupta abruptly stopped walking. "Is that an issue?"

Sadiq stopped, turned, and looked at him. It seemed like such a severe reaction, considering his personality. "I don't really care, honestly-"

"Because, Sadiq," Gupta turned and looked at Sadiq with firm, almost pleading eyes. "My religion does not make me judgmental."

"I never said-"

"Yesterday, when you assumed I would regard you with disgust…" Gupta looked towards the ground before Sadiq could see if his expression had changed. "I was hurt."

"Oh." Sadiq was surprised by how deeply this struck him. He had long since resigned to his tendency to make snap decisions about people and things and ideas, but perhaps it was time he learnt not to be so quick to assume. However, he could not stop himself from responding angrily. "Look, kid, my dad was super religious. When he figured out… yeah, he practically disowned me. I've learned to assume."

Gupta looked back at him, earnestly. "What a shame that is. _Allah _does not approve of such a thing being done in his name, I am certain. I am sorry, Sadiq."

"No," said Sadiq quickly. "I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry." He shocked himself with the words. Apologies were usually so difficult for him, and one hurt look from the strange boy made it an instinct.

"No need." Gupta focused his eyes forward. "Perhaps it was an overreaction on my part. The subject is just a bit… personal." He whispered the last word, almost nervously, and suddenly, with a pang of shock, Sadiq understood. He didn't mind – that would make him pretty hypocritical – but he was suddenly hyper aware of Gupta's hand in his.

Sadiq figured a subject change was necessary. "So why'd you move?"

Gupta's shoulders loosened, his face relaxing, and he answered with ease. "As lovely as Egypt is, it has many flaws. There was not much opportunity for my mother." He smiled softly, fondly. "She desired more freedom, so she decided to move. I fully support the decision."

"You must be pretty close with her." It was almost absurd how strange Sadiq found the idea.

And Gupta answered as if it was obvious. "Yes, of course."

"Must be nice…" said Sadiq quietly, too quietly, for only himself to hear.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

Gupta nodded, but Sadiq had a gut feeling that he had in fact heard him. He immediately felt nauseous, self-critical, vulnerable. It was too strong a reaction and he knew it. But Gupta did not seem to notice his distress, and only said, "Well, I am sure my mother would love to meet you sometime."

Unsure how to respond to that, Sadiq glanced at Gupta and stumbled through the first thought that popped into his head. "It's not that hot here." Before he could reconsider, he reached across himself with his free hand and flipped the end of Gupta's keffiyeh. "Why do you still wear, uh, this?" For some reason he could not remember the word he knew perfectly well.

Gupta blinked, looking a little startled. Sadiq dropped his hand, cleared his throat, and tried to look aloof. "I have always worn this. Why would I stop?"

"No one wears those here. I would think you wouldn't want to stand out."

Gupta paused, as if he was considering it. But he only gave a light laugh. Sadiq's chest jumped, partially out of surprise, partially out of something else. "Sadiq, I get the feeling you are overly concerned with what other people think."

Sadiq felt vaguely offended at that, even if deep down he knew it was true. "What?"

"You told me it was strange that I went to that dance alone, simply because it is uncommon. Now you are asking why I would to continue to wear something I like." Gupta looked to Sadiq with a raised eyebrow, fondly exasperated. "Do you allow everything you do to be influenced by others?"

It sounded rhetorical but Sadiq answered indignantly anyway. "Of course not!"

Gupta stared for a moment, and then looked away. He might as well have just flat out called Sadiq a liar. And Sadiq knew, deep down, that that was true. He _did _worry about other people too much. He had only started drinking that night because he was embarrassed, to forget the snickering behind his back. The reason he had acted so terribly to Heracles for two years was because he didn't want to be seen as weak. That hit Sadiq like a train – it was the _only _reason. He lost the love of his life because of his damn ego. Sadiq's chest tightened, and he bit down on his lip.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," said Sadiq immediately, terrified his voice might waver. "I'm fine."

"You know…" Maybe Sadiq was imagining it, but at that moment, he was absolutely certain Gupta squeezed his hand. "It is okay not to be."

The words were an arrow to the heart. Confused and overwhelmed, Sadiq could not hold it back anymore. "Why are you so nice to me?"

Gupta's brow furrowed, lips parting, either confused or offended or both. Sadiq fully expected him to say something about _Allah, _but that was not the case. "Why would I not be? You are nice to me, and I like you." Gupta paused again, and then looked Sadiq straight in the eye, earnestly, as if he suspected Sadiq did not believe him. Maybe he was a mind reader. "Really, Sadiq. I do."

Sadiq didn't know how to respond to that. He wasn't even sure if he could. Gupta didn't appear to want anything from Sadiq, he had no reason to lie, there was nothing he could gain by spending time with him. Gupta liked him… truly liked him. Sadiq really, honestly, did not understand. And that was just depressing.

Embarrassingly choked up, Sadiq allowed the silence to linger for some time.

"Is that it?"

Sadiq blinked back to reality. He had been zoned out for the past several minutes, too overcome, too humiliated to speak. But now Gupta was speaking, and he forced himself to look around and figure out where they were… he hadn't been paying attention. He turned to look at what Gupta was staring at, and recognized it after a moment – it was a white, plain looking building, only distinguishable by the domed top and crescent moon atop one of the pillars.

"Oh. Yeah, that's the mosque." Sadiq had promised Gupta he would show him this place. Maybe he'd gone this way unconsciously.

"Wow." Sadiq had always thought it was a pretty ugly building, but Gupta sounded honestly impressed. "It is lovely."

"It's… definitely a mosque."

"I see that." Gupta almost laughed – and it was such a _nice _sound, Sadiq thought, honestly embarrassed of his own mind. "My mother will be glad. We will attend this coming Friday, I am sure."

Sadiq stared at the building for a long moment. He remembered attending on Fridays with his own mother, vaguely, but it felt like another life. He didn't even remember what the services were like. "Have fun," he said finally. He was surprised when it ended up sounding a bit bitter.

"Fun is not the right word, but thank you. I will certainly enjoy it." Gupta gently lowered his eyes from the mosque to the ground. "You no longer attend, correct?" It did not sound like an accusation, rather a genuine, curious question.

Sadiq shook his head. "Not for a real long time."

"Do you ever miss it?"

Sadiq wasn't sure if he had a real answer… he didn't remember enough to have an opinion. "It's pretty boring, isn't it?" he said, mostly as a cover, his forced-sounding chuckle the same.

"Sometimes, I will admit. But the benefits much outweigh the setbacks." Gupta suddenly frowned, then shook his head as if breaking free from a trance. "I apologize, I do not wish to impose this on you."

Sadiq could not help but feel shocked at that – most of the extremely religious people he'd known had wanted nothing but to preach at him, and Gupta seemed apologetic for simply mentioning it. "It's cool," he said. "It's been awhile. I can't say I don't think about it sometimes." Again, he was shocked at his own words. It was so easy to speak openly with Gupta. Too easy.

Gupta lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, you are always welcome to join."

"Oh, god…" Sadiq attempted to drum up a sarcastic, passive response, but he could only manage, "Really?"

"Of course, my friend." Gupta turned, the mosque completely forgotten, and looked to Sadiq with an expression so warm it made him think they were no longer talking about the building at all. He dropped Sadiq's hand and instead touched his arm. His touch was so comforting, so strangely familiar, that Sadiq had to fight not to pull back in defense. Gupta smiled; Sadiq froze. "You are always welcome, Sadiq."

.

The week passed in a lifeless haze. Sadiq felt numb towards the end of his senior year, something he should logically be excited about, but for whatever reason, wasn't. Nothing excited him these days, really… which left the tight lump in his throat completely unexplained. It was a blustery, chilly Friday morning, too cold for late spring. Sadiq blamed his feelings of unease on the weather rather than the mosque in front of him.

It had happened again, Sadiq thought as he glanced to either side and tugged self-consciously at his _kufi_. He had landed himself in yet another situation he had no desire to be in. Services were boring, if he was remembering correctly, and surely he had better things to do. Of course he did. Sadiq took to listening those things in his head, and he was no further than the first when he heard a voice beside him.

"Ah, what a lovely evening." The quiet voice was followed by a soft sigh, and then, "Hello, Sadiq."

Sadiq jolted to attention – he had not even heard Gupta walk up to him. He was an ethereal as a ghost, though his blowing robes and warm brown eyes made him look far more like… an angel. Sadiq felt strange for thinking it but could not help himself. From the way he spoke to his mere presence, Gupta was simply otherworldly.

Sadiq blinked, cleared his throat, and spoke once he got a grip on himself. How embarrassing. "Oh, hey." He forced his eyes from Gupta and looked to either side. "Is your, uh…"

Before he could finish, he heard a feminine voice to the other side of him. "You must be Sadiq," she said. Sadiq looked up and into the eyes of a truly beautiful woman. She had the same brown eyes as Gupta, the same sharp features, but her smile was far more open. A strand of dark hair peaked out through her hijab, and she brushed it back with a slender hand before speaking again. "How nice it is to meet you."

"Same to you… ma'am." The last word practically fell from Sadiq's lips, like an instinct. He was not sure why.

"So formal!" She laughed, light and airy. "I can see why Gupta has taken a liking to you." She spoke just as Gupta did – kind, unassuming, and as smooth as silk.

Gupta looked down and away. He cupped the back of his neck, his lips pursed and he whispered. "Mom…"

She flipped her hand at him. "Oh, Gupta, you are fine."

Sadiq was not sure what surprised him more… this woman's words, Gupta's apparent embarrassment, or the astounding normality of it all. Gupta and his mother spoke so easily. Sadiq wondered momentarily what it must be like to have such a relationship with a parent, but decided not to dwell on it too much.

"Yeah, Gupta, chill-" Sadiq trailed off instantly when Gupta shot him a very subtle, yet painfully stern look. He got the feeling he would be seeing that often… and that made him oddly thankful. "Should we go inside?"

Gupta let his face fall flat and nodded. "I believe that is a good idea." With that, he turned on his heel and walked towards the building with short, purposeful steps. His mother smiled at Sadiq, and then followed. Sadiq trailed along behind the two of them. He tried to deny it to himself, but he could not ignore the tight knot in his throat.

And the knot remained for some time, only tightening and Sadiq stumbled his way through the customs he had long since forgotten. He managed to dampen the entire front of his shirt during _wudu, _and Gupta shot him another look from a few feet away, though this time it looked to be more out of pity than anything. Sadiq's face had gone warm, and not even another splash of cool water could help it.

But it was not until the main room that Sadiq was thrown into something so foreign he had to continuously remind himself to breathe.

Minutes passed in a flurry. Without warning, Sadiq was caught in a whirlwind of activity, of voices he did not recognize and hugs he was not expecting, of laughter and conversation and affection. It was if everyone in this mosque were long lost relatives. At first, Sadiq froze. He did not want to act this way with strangers, surely. Most days he felt as if he didn't want to act like this with anyone. The idea made his skin crawl, his stomach twist. It was an unsafe feeling.

But Sadiq did not feel unsafe here. A man he had never seen before smiled and shook his hand, an elderly woman hugged him, and half a dozen others said hello. It was if they had been waiting for him. All around him were strangers, yet they behaved like friends of Sadiq and of each other, even family. It felt oddly safe. It felt… like home.

Once the call to prayer was announced and the commotion ground to a halt, Sadiq turned to see Gupta beside him. His flat expression was unwavering – he must have been used to this. But Sadiq was overwhelmed, almost blindsided, and in some respect, unfulfilled. Without thinking enough to remember his walls, Sadiq did what he had unconsciously wanted to since the moment he saw him – he leant down to Gupta and embraced him.

Gupta audibly bit back a gasp. "Sadiq…"

"That's what people do here, right?" Sadiq chuckled, though his chest was rapidly swelling with an emotion he had not felt in months, or even years. It was a quiet, warm, blissful thing, and it all spun back on how Gupta exhaled, and then hesitantly raised his hands to rest on Sadiq's arms.

"I… suppose," he whispered, his voice trailing off as if he were resigned to something. He did not try to move immediately. As his mind was clouded by an emotion that for once was not anger, Sadiq took it as a sign. What that sign was pointing to, he had no idea.

Unwilling to let go but fully aware he had to, Sadiq patted Gupta once on the back and said, simply, "Thanks." He said it so quietly he could not even he sure Gupta had heard him.

Either way, Gupta was not left time to respond. The imam began to speak, they settled on the floor, and the room fell silent. Gupta held his gaze for only a moment before looking away. He then bowed his head reverently, closed his eyes, and visibly faded into something beyond the two of them. Then, he too was silent. Sadiq's thoughts were still loud in his head.

Throughout the service, Sadiq slowly grew accustomed to the idea that everything he had suffered through was simply leading him to this day, this place. And that had little to do with prayer or worship. Hell, he could barely understand the imam's accent, even when he was playing attention. Sadiq was simply not a religious man. But the idea of being a part of something bigger, something that extended beyond Heracles, beyond his family, beyond himself, was a relief almost too dizzying to stand.

For so long, Sadiq had searched for a light at the end of the tunnel. And as he gazed at Gupta, at his folded hands and focused eyes and lips that moved in sync with the prayer, the embodiment of all the calm, quiet patience he had been missing, Sadiq could not help but think he had finally found it.

.

Kiku looked up at the pink skyline, at the orange-tinged leaves, and noted how the late afternoon wind was crisp against his skin. The days were getting shorter. Summer had flown by in a flash, in a haze of bright mornings, of starry nights, of peace and calm and quiet. He spent most days with Heracles. Kiku had few exciting stories about the summer, but one thing was certain – he had never had a less lonely, more fulfilling summer in all his life.

School would start again soon. It was a bittersweet thing, really. On one hand, Kiku was glad to have a fresh start, a new year in the wake of the one that had changed his life in far more ways than one. But Heracles was entering his senior year, Kiku his junior… something about that definitely rubbed him the wrong way.

But that didn't matter right now. There were still a few days left before it all began, and Kiku was determined to live in the moment rather than the past or future, for once. And today was a beautiful day. The sun was setting, and Heracles was beside him, holding his hand and filling the silence only when necessary.

"What a beautiful evening," said Heracles softly, his gaze high and his smile tired. "I love this time of day. It's a wonderful time to think."

Kiku could not disagree. But he was not thinking too much today, really. There was simply no reason for his mind to be cluttered. He nodded, absently ran his thumb over the back of Heracles's hand, and silently thanked his lucky stars for this moment.

But the moment ended before he even could. "Wait…" Heracles trailed off, stopped abruptly, and Kiku stopped as well. "Is that…"

Just as he heard someone who was not Heracles mumble "shit," Kiku looked up. A few feet away, coming from the opposite direction, were two boys. They were holding hands just as he and Heracles were, which almost shocked him, but what surprised him more was when they broke apart almost immediately. Kiku wondered momentarily if he should do the same, but Heracles only tightened his grip.

"Kiku," he said quickly, harshly, out of either shock of nervousness. "I know you never met him, but…"

"Sadiq," said the boy beside the one Heracles was staring at, before he could finish. Heracles did not have to finish. Kiku understood immediately. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh…" Sadiq scratched the stubble on his jaw, eyes wide and lips drawn in a tight line. He did not answer the boy next to him. Instead, he cleared his throat, looked to Heracles with a neutral expression that was obviously a cover for something else, and said, "Hey, Herc."

The boy's eyes widened, and he mouthed the word 'oh.'

For once, Kiku was glad he was mute. Even if he could speak he would not have a clue what to say. Heracles stayed silent, stared. Then, after about an eternity of what felt like the few tense seconds before a battle, he said, "Hello, Sadiq." A pause. "Have you been well?"

Kiku followed Sadiq's gaze as he glanced to the boy. He was as silent as Kiku was in the moment, and wore a keffiyeh as well as an expression devoid of emotion. Sadiq looked back up. "I'd say so," he said. "You?"

"Very much so." There was a hint of smugness in Heracles's voice, as if he was proud of how he was now, proud of picking himself up after Sadiq had so foolishly kicked him down all those months ago. "Who is your… friend?"

Sadiq smiled fondly, but forced it away just as quickly, like a defense mechanism. "This is Gupta." He looked to the boy – Gupta, apparently. "Guppy, this is Heracles, and, uh…"

"Kiku," Heracles finished. His shoulders lifted slightly, and he clutched Kiku's hand so tightly it nearly fell numb. Kiku hardly felt threatened by these two, but Heracles's reaction was so immediate, so severe, that he almost thought he should be.

"Right. Nice to finally meet you, Kiku." Sadiq nodded at him, and Kiku nodded back. He didn't seem too bad… certainly not the villain Heracles painted him as once upon a time. There was a pause, and everything around the four of them seemed to still, right down to the wind through the trees and the birds in the distance. Finally, Sadiq took a breath and said, "Herc, can I talk to you for a second?"

Heracles tensed even further. "Why?"

"Will you calm down? Jesus, you act like-" Sadiq broke off when Gupta silently shot him a firm, ice-cold look, one that made Kiku freeze up even though none of this had anything to do with him. "It'll just be a minute," Sadiq finished, quiet and calm this time.

Heracles exhaled through his nose. Then, to Kiku's great surprise, slowly released his hand and nodded once. Every move he made looked like it took a great effort. "Fine," he mumbled, taking a step forward.

"Alright." Sadiq turned to Gupta. "Gupta, I guess you can just-"

"I will talk to Kiku."

_Talk… _Kiku felt his stomach lurch. This boy had no way of knowing. He glanced at Heracles, desperation likely apparent in his eyes, and allowed his thoughts to run away from him.

Heracles regarded him with a tight-lipped expression. "Oh, Kiku cannot really…" His eyes asked for permission, and Kiku only nodded to give it to him. He had long since given up on hiding it. "…He cannot really talk," Heracles finished quietly.

Gupta did not even flinch. "That is fine. Conversation is often overrated." He dropped Sadiq's hand and looked him purposefully in the eye. "Try to be civil," he nearly whispered, though not quietly enough for Kiku not to hear.

Sadiq was visibly flushed as he jerked his head in the opposite direction, signaling for Heracles to follow him. Heracles sighed, patted Kiku once on the shoulder, and followed. Kiku watched until the two of them were halfway down the road. Thirty seconds, and no one had been hit yet… it was a good sign.

And then there were two. Kiku was not sure where to look, what to do. This situation was a foreign country and he had just been air dropped into it. He felt his pulse quicken, his palms sweat, his head grow light. Oh, no. He thought he was done with this…

"You look a bit nervous," said Gupta, breaking the silence. His voice was composed, even. "Please, do not be. I am no threat."

The way he spoke was… odd, Kiku noted, but it hardly bothered him. In fact it only soothed his nerves as they fired without hesitation. Gupta gave off an air of trustworthiness, even though he and Kiku were just now meeting for the first time.

Gupta walked forward until they were only about a foot apart. "My full name is Gupta Muhammad Hassan." He extended a hand, and Kiku hesitated briefly before shaking it. "And you are Kiku. Do not fret, I will not ask your surname."

Kiku just nodded. His heart slowed, right along with his mind. He did not feel threatened by Gupta… In fact, he felt nothing more than curiosity.

Gupta looked over his shoulder, stared for a moment, then turned back and sighed. "Oh, I do hope they are getting along. Sadiq told me about their history."

Kiku nodded again, as he was hoping the same thing. Heracles had told him plenty – from the long stretches of silence to the yelling, from the fights to the cheating, from the reason they got together to the reason they broke up. How they survived such a relationship for two years, he had no idea. The thought almost made him shiver in sympathy.

"They were both worse for wear after all of that, I am sure," said Gupta, as if he had read Kiku's mind. He then looked past Kiku and spoke as if he was only taking to himself. "Sadiq was so… angry, when I met him. Thankfully, he is healing. Slowly."

Healing… the word resonated with Kiku. Heracles had never really been angry, but for a long while he had been detached, withdrawn so deep into himself it took Kiku weeks or even months to pull him out. Heracles smiled a lot more now. Sometimes he even laughed. Just the other day, it had taken Kiku only a couple kisses to the neck to get him giggling, and then sighing… he flushed and looked away, embarrassed by his own mind.

Gupta did not seem to notice. He brought his hands together; eyes still fixed on some far away spot. "Heracles does not strike me as a bad man."

Kiku found himself shaking his head before Gupta even finished. No, Heracles was not a bad man. Far from it. He was eccentric, sometimes distant, and he had made mistakes… as they all had. Heracles was not perfect, but he was wonderful. Kiku was sure Gupta would say the same about Sadiq.

Gupta smiled, lightly. "I thought so."

Kiku just nodded.

"You know…" Gupta regarded Kiku was a knowing expression. "From what Sadiq has said about him, I believe you are very good for Heracles."

Kiku wished he could fill the silence that followed. He wanted to say that Sadiq was not a bad person either, that Gupta's calm patience seemed to be exactly what the fiery person Heracles had described needed as well, that he only wanted the best for all of them. Kiku wished he could do anything other than stare at him.

"I am very glad it worked out," said Gupta after a long moment, breaking Kiku from his turbulent thoughts. "I think that is all that needs to be said."

It was like he had read Kiku's mind. He nodded, looked down the road, and wondered how the other two were doing.

.

It took an absurdly long amount of time to even _say _anything.

For the first couple minutes, it was as if Heracles and Sadiq had somehow agreed to see who could stand the silent tension the longest. The ambled side by side, not looking at each other, barely even acknowledging each other, for a good several yards. To an onlooker, they were two strangers who had accidentally gotten too close for comfort. In reality there was enough history between them to fill a book, but it was easier to ignore it entirely than it was to try and pry open the old, dusty pages.

Heracles was actually the one to reach his breaking point first, which struck him as odd. Seemed Sadiq had gained some patience over the months. "What brought you out here, Sadiq? You never struck me as the 'going for a walk' type."

"I'm not." Sadiq paused, as if unsure if he should continue. Finally, like a confession, he said, "We're coming back from the mosque."

Heracles wondered if he had heard that correctly. "The mosque? Since when are you religious?"

"I'm not, really." Sadiq shrugged. "It's not really about that."

Sadiq's logic had baffled Heracles before, but this he really could not fathom. Only he could manage to take religion out of religion. "Then what on earth is it about?"

Sadiq actually laughed at that, as if his own absurdity was finally catching up to him. He then looked at Heracles and smiled, genuinely smiled, as if they were two old friends reuniting rather than virtual enemies. Heracles blinked. Sadiq might as well have been a completely different person. Finally, like an explanation, Sadiq said, "It's about him."

"Oh," breathed Heracles in understanding. "So, you two are…"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up." Sadiq flipped his hand, but there was no bitterness, no anger in his voice. He was smiling.

It took Heracles a moment to realize that he too was smiling, and he quickly wiped it away, feeling confused. He let his feelings sit for a moment, but could come up with nothing other than what was both the most obvious and the most unreal. He honestly could not believe it… he was _happy _for Sadiq.

Very quietly, Heracles said, "I am glad things worked out for you." He tried to sound as detached as he could, but deep down he knew he meant it.

"Yeah," Sadiq mumbled, and then slowly added, "Same to you."

At that, Heracles felt the beginnings of discomfort creep up his spine and tickle his neck. This was too strange. He knew he and Sadiq could never be friends in the traditional sense, but even the idea they could eventually look at each other without pure, unbridled hatred, even look at each other with _fondness, _was like stepping into another world.

But today was not that day.

"I don't want to look at you anymore," said Heracles, his mouth curling into a familiar grimace. "Let's head back."

"Whatever, Jerkules."

Those words, two Heracles had heard from him time and time again, struck him like a declaration of peace.

They walked back in silence. Heracles smiled when he saw Gupta talking not at, but _with _Kiku somehow, like the words were one-sided but the communication was not. Heracles was glad Kiku was beginning to achieve that beyond the two of them. "Kiku," he called out after the moment passed. "We're back."

Kiku turned, smiled. There was relief in his eyes. Gupta looked the same, Heracles noticed, as he ambled up to Sadiq and took his hand without care or concern. Sadiq did not pull away.

"Well, cya, Herc."

As he spoke, Heracles looked to Sadiq one last time. The orange evening light caught his dark eyes, his dark hair, his light smile. He was standing straight, back arched towards the sunset. He looked… new. Looking at him, Heracles did not feel sad, or nostalgic, or even bitter anymore. In fact, he felt 'new' as well. He said, "See you," and honestly meant it.

Sadiq and Heracles turned from each other simultaneously, and walked off in different directions. Quiet footsteps faded to nothing in the blink of an eye.

Heracles did not take Kiku's hand then, but draped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close, closer, until Kiku wan leaning against his side, and Heracles felt at peace. They walked home in silence – easy, blissful, fulfilling silence, one that made a million promises without needing a word. It was amazing how much could come from what many would perceive as nothing.

To Heracles, it was everything.

* * *

_The End… (Not Quite…)_

* * *

**Stay tuned for the epilogue. :)**


	16. Epilogue

Heracles adjusted his horrendous blue, square, uncomfortable cap, squinted against the spotlights, and saw him. Kiku smiled at him from row three, chair seven, and gave a tiny wave. Heracles smiled back. So much had changed in year, but at the same time it seemed as though nothing had changed at all.

The ceremony is nothing spectacular. If there were one word to describe it, it would be 'long.' Heracles spent the better part of two hours in a cheap fold out chair, still messing with that god-forsaken cap, listening to name after name and heartfelt speech after heartfelt speech. He was mostly focused on staying awake.

This should mean… more than it felt like, he thought. Heracles knew full well he ought to be feeling something – whether it be joy, sadness, fear, something else entirely. But he felt none of that. Not as he listened to the speeches, not as he looked around as saw others crying, not even as he crossed the over-lit stage and received his diploma.

This was it, he thought as he sat down. This was the moment he had spent the first eighteen years of his life trying to achieve. Something was ending, and something else was beginning. But all of that was overshadowed by the memory of the previous year. Heracles was sure, whether it be due to his teenage naivety or not, that he could not possibly grow as much as he did that year any other year of his life. Compared to that, this supposedly monumental moment was a blurb.

For a ceremony that felt a year long, the ending seemed to come before Heracles could blink. He looked up, and suddenly, everyone was leaving. The voices were filtering out. The lights had dimmed. This, whatever it was, was over.

Heracles allowed the thought to paralyze him, but he was broken from it when he felt a pull on his hand in the midst of the mutiny. He could recognize him from touch alone. Before he even looked up, Heracles knew Kiku was in front of him, gazing at him, smiling at him. It would still be a year before Kiku would have this same moment. Heracles had closed a chapter that Kiku had not yet finished. But that didn't matter, because they had right now.

"Hello," said Heracles. "Did you enjoy the ceremony?"

Kiku shrugged, and even then Heracles agreed with him.

"Me too," he said.

Fading footsteps echoed against the walls as they exited. Heracles walked with Kiku into the large, open lobby connected to the auditorium, and the quiet echo was replaced with an onslaught of voices and noise. Congratulations, promises, goodbyes. Someone laughing, someone crying. It was as if everyone else's world had imploded.

Heracles freed himself of his cap and gown, balled them up under his arm, and took Kiku's hand. His eyes scanned the room, searching for a quiet spot among all of this. If he had learned one thing last year, it was that there was always, always a quiet space, as long as he was willing to look for it. Sure enough, he found it. A far wall had never failed him before.

"So," said Heracles, leaning against the chipped white paint. "I suppose this is over for me."

Kiku paused, a twitch in his eye, almost as if this was new to him. Then reality visibly hit. He nodded.

Heracles felt a pang of guilt, and immediately tried to cover it with reassurances. "I won't be far," he said. "I'll be going to school just an hour away."

Kiku nodded again, unfazed. It wasn't as if he hadn't known that. Heracles wished he could say something, anything that Kiku _didn't_ know already, something to take the sour taste out of this bittersweet moment.

He could find only one thing. "I love you," said Heracles. Never had three words rolled off his tongue as easily. "This does not change a thing."

Finally, Kiku looked up from the floor and smiled at him. Heracles smiled back. It was a simple, silent, unnoticeable moment, yet it was just as binding and just as sincere as a written contract. Neither looked away. So, since promises were meant to be sealed, Heracles leant forward – only to be stopped by a familiar, too-strong hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, he felt only surprise when he expected dread.

"Oh." Heracles turned, swallowed. "Sadiq."

"Hey," said Sadiq casually, a greeting that could easily be mistaken as one of a friendly acquaintance. "So, you graduated."

Heracles narrowed his eyes – it was a habit. "That's what tends to happen at the end of high school." He had to wonder… "What are you doing here?"

Sadiq did not glare, nor sneer, nor fire back some jaded comment. He simply jerked his head to the side. Heracles followed the motion, and immediately understood – Gupta _had _graduated with him, after all. "I see," he said, only partially surprised.

It had been a year. Through he had the same straggly beard, the same gruff voice, and the same guarded stance, Sadiq was different. Heracles had to assume he had grown in that time. Or maybe they had simply brought out the worst in each other. Perhaps it was a mix of both.

"Believe me, I'm not here for you, brat." There was a hint of malice in that, and Heracles was strangely relieved. Things almost felt normal. Sadiq _was _the same. "I just wanted to say…" He paused, glanced at Kiku, and punched Heracles lightly on the shoulder. "Good luck with everything." And then he was gone, lost in the crowd as quickly as he had emerged from it.

Heracles blinked, a bit phased, but mostly unaffected. He turned to Kiku and smirked. "I suppose that boy has had quite the effect on him."

Kiku nodded, though his far-off gaze suggested he had barely heard him.

"Is everything alright?" Kiku did not even turn, and fear bubbled in the pit of Heracles's stomach. "Kiku?"

Tension snapped like a rubber band between them. In a quick, yet suspiciously pre-calculated way, Kiku snatched Heracles's hand and all but yanked him forward. Heracles stumbled a bit before matching his hurried pace.

"Is… everything alright?" he asked again, half speaking, half screaming as they passed through a crowd of graduates. "Where are we going?"

As if Kiku could respond. But Heracles got his answer anyway, as he always did, even if there were no words available. Kiku lead them through another hallway, the amount of people lessening and lessening until they were the only two in sight. Then, Kiku stopped. Heracles noticed there was a staircase above them.

Heracles's heartbeat sped up in his chest, thrumming with anticipation and muddled fear of the unknown. He thought to speak again but decided against it.

Kiku took Heracles's hand again, this time with a firm, though trembling grip. He closed his eyes, and everything slowed.

Heracles curled his hand around Kiku's shaking fingers, and realized he could feel his pulse through his wrist. In that small, secret place, he could also hear his breathing, taste his nerves. Heracles could sense everything, save for where all of this emotion stemmed from. So Heracles stared. He waited. He could think of nothing else to do.

And then, in the silence so heavy it was physical, a sound.

It was the creak in the wood, the pin against the ground. Something so soft and so slight Heracles was sure it was a figment of his forever-racing imagination. Really, it was more of an exhale. But it shook the very foundation of the ground.

And it was nothing but the beginning of his name: _Hera. _

That was the moment the oxygen left. Heracles blinked, tried to breathe. "Kiku?" It was, just as the sound, nothing more than an exhale.

Kiku's knuckles turned white as he managed to grip Heracles's hand even tighter. Now, it was not only his hand, but his entire arm that shook under the force. And there it was again, louder, and as clear and striking as crystal, though as fleeting as a flash in the pan. _H-Heracles…_

It fizzled out. It felt like lightning in Heracles's blood. He was mistaken; he had never been more certain in his life. Nothing was real and yet reality was suffocating him. Heracles could not even tell anymore. "Did you just…" He stopped, as his mouth was too dry to continue.

And then Kiku looked up, and there were tears in his eyes, and he was clutching Heracles's hand tightly, so tightly, as if his courage would fall away if he dropped it. As quickly as it disappeared, it was back. "I…" Kiku's voice was raspy; weak with lack of use – oh God, his _voice. _"…L-Love you."

Just like that, Heracles's entire world, his entire universe collapsed, and just as quickly burst into a new one. Reality and fantasy merged together like colliding trains. He stopped breathing, and then he started again, in a choking gasp, in a strangled laugh, in something he could not even place or explain. Silent seconds passed. Then everything broke and suddenly Heracles was crying, harder and more openly than he ever had in his life, a torrent of emotion exasperating it until breathing was work. His knees grew weak but something held him up. Maybe it was Kiku, maybe it was his blinding, weightless joy.

Then he realized he was moving, being shaken. He heard that surreal sound again. "H-hera?" It was a hoarse whisper that might as well have been a firework.

Heracles mumbled a series of exclamations in Greek, took a much-needed breath, and finally found his own voice again. "Kiku, I love you." He sniffed, almost laughed. "I love you, I love you…" His voice cracked again, and he fell silent and wrapped Kiku in a hug. His vision spun, so he closed his eyes.

Kiku slowly leant against his chest, and his trembling body slowly stilled. Heracles waited until then, when he knew the mania had passed, to speak again.

"How is this possible?" Heracles still didn't understand, and honestly, the explanation hardly mattered. All that matters was this _was _possible, somehow.

A long, pained breath. The word came slowly and arrived broken. "…Practice." Another breath. "Time."

"I'm so proud of you." Heracles hugged him tighter. "You are so amazing…"

Kiku tapped his shoulder. "Can't…breathe…"

Heracles quickly released him. "Sorry," he said, only then realizing his throat was raw. "So, now you can…"

Kiku just nodded, his chest rising and falling heavily, as if he had just run a marathon. He might as well have. Though a marathon, Heracles assumed, would be far less challenging than what he had just accomplished. "Still hard," he finally whispered.

"Of course, of course." Heracles nodded – he would assume that was the case. "I am… so proud of you."

He was repeating himself, but he could think of nothing else to say or feel. He _was _proud of Kiku, almost painfully so – for getting this far, for holding on so long, and everything else that he had done to lead himself to this explosive moment. In fact, Heracles was proud to be in his life at all.

Kiku smiled back at him. He exhaled as though relieved, came to the balls of his feet, and rested his hands on Heracles's shoulders.

So Heracles kissed him – God, he kissed him. He kissed him in gratitude, in love, and more than anything, as a promise. A promise to always be there, to always come back. To love him like this forever. To overcome any challenge thrown at them, because they had done it before, so surely they could do it again, and again, and all over again. As much as they needed to. They had made it this far; they could make it much farther. Kiku was his dream and this was only the start.

Heracles waited to wake up, but he quickly, manically accepted this moment for what it was – beautiful, breathtaking _reality. _

Sound and all.

* * *

**The End… is only the beginning!**

* * *

_AN: I apologize there was a such a long wait for such a short chapter. Hopefully, this one packed quite a punch despite the length. Thank you so much for being patient with me, favoring, following, and most of all, for reading. You all kept me motivated and made this fic possible. I have plenty more in store (more giripan, of course, along with some hospiverse stuff!) so stay tuned!_


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